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'V.:.- 



CHAPLAIN FULLER 



BEING 



A LIFE SKETCH 



A NEW ENGLAND CLERGYMAN 
AND ARMY CHAPLAIN 



By RICHARD F. FULLER. 



" I must do something for my country." 
" Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. 





BOSTON: 

WALKER, WISE, AND COMPANY, 

245 Washington Street. 
18 64. 



E^t3> 






4t4r 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by 

EMMA LUCILLA FULLER, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts 



University Press: 

Welch, Bigelow, and Company, 

Cambridge. 



PREFACE. 



"Poscimur: — si quid vacui sub umbra 
Lusimus tecum, quod et hunc in annum 
Vivat, et plures, — age, die ... . 
Barbite, carmen ! " 




EREAVEMENT naturally leads us to recall 
the scenes of the life of the departed, to 
look over the memorials of his virtues and 
the souvenirs of his love. This employment has af- 
forded a sad satisfaction, and the general interest 
manifested in the fate of Chaplain Fuller, as well as 
the historic scenes in which he participated, has led to 
the publication of his biography. 

It is hoped that this labor of love may be of advan- 
tage to the family of the Chaplain, to whose benefit 
Its pecuniary avails are devoted. 

The pen of the Chaplain has been made to write the 
greater part of his biography. Especially in martial 
scenes does he make his own record. 

As his character is unfolded in these pages, we think 
the pure and patriotic motive which led him to seal the 



IV PREFACE. 

devotion of his life with his blood, stands forth in bold 
and unmistakable prominence. 

War scenes and incidents, historical personages and 
places, render the theme of this book of universal 
interest. The full and particular narrative of the 
combat of the Merrimac and Monitor, of which the 
Chaplain was an eyewitness, is one of his sketches 
of important events which have a value for historical 
reference. 

And it is believed that not only the religious public, 
but the general reader, will be interested in the narra- 
tive which depicts a specimen of the New England 
clergy, a class remarkable for its position and influence 
among a free people. 

Upon the Chaplain's childhood and youth we have 
dwelt with some particularity, not only because of 
their general importance as the key to the sequel of 
life, but also on account of the public interest in his 
sister Margaret, who was the loadstar of his early 
days. 




CONTENTS. 



• PART I. 

CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. 
Chap. ^ paqb 

I. Lineage 3 

II. Childhood 15 

III. Youth 35 

IV. Beltidere, or The Missionary 57 

V. Divinity School 77 



PART II. 

THE NEW ENGLAND CLERGYMAN. 

I. Manchester '. . . . 87 

II. Boston 115 

in. Episodes 141 



PART III. 

THE ARMY CHAPLAIN. 

I. The Great Rebellion 157 

II. Fortress Monroe 170 

III. Fortress Incidents : including the Contest be- 
tween the MtrvUiMAC and Monitor . . . 213 



VI CONTENTS. 

IV. The Peninsular Campaign 246 

V. Shadows 278 

VI. Fredericksburg 294 

VII. Obsequies 308 

VIII. Appreciation 322 

IX. Tributes in Verse 335 



PART I 



CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH 



*' How many are you, then," said I, 

" If they two are in heaven ? " 
Quick was the little maid's reply, 

*' O Master, we are seven ! " 

** But tliey are dead ; those two are dead 1 — 

Their spirits are in heaven-! " 
'T was throwing words away ; for still 
The little maid would have her will, 

And said, " Nay, we are seven ! " 

Wordsworth. 



CHAPTER I 



LINEAGE. 



"Parvum Nilum videre." 




HERE is a natural curiosity to trace a stream 
to its source — to follow it back to the hills 
from whose bosom it first springs to life. 
The more noble the flow of its current, 
the more beneficent its waters, in opening paths to 
inland navigation or furnishing food for man, so much 
the keener is curiosity to trace it to the crystal 
fountain of its origin. The undiscovered source of 
the Kile was for centuries the theme of speculation. 
Inquirers, after the ancient method, propounded this 
practical question to the oracles of reason, and drew 
from them the enigmatical responses of theory ; never 
apparently thinking of the solution, which modern em- 
piricism has reached, by actually threading back the 
stream, and thus working out the safe result of obser- 
vation. 

Human life, like the river, may attract little public 
notice in its playful early course, when prattling 
among the parent hills, or leaping in gay cascades 
on its downward way, to swell, eventually, into the 
graver, deeper current of manhood. But if, as its 
waters gather head, they furnish a spectacle of nat- 



4 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

ural beauty in their flow or fall, or bestow public 
blessings in banks made green and fruitful, or bounti- 
ful fisheries, or bear upon their back the burdens of 
navigation, or attract attention by the glory of their 
exit into the sea, symbolizing the issue of life for 
time into the ocean of eternity, — then men turn their 
steps back to the early stream, and search out, in its 
source and surroundings, every presage of its destiny. 
It is generally believed, that character, as a common 
rule, bears the impress of family origin. In the divis- 
ion of mankind into races, each race preserves in its 
history distinguishing traits, both physical and intel- 
lectual, so decidedly marked as to induce some in- 
genious naturalists to deny one common origin to all 
the human species. So in the subdivisions of race 
into families, we often observe the prominent charac- 
teristics repeated in successive generations. There is 
very much, it is true, to disturb this natural result. 
Marriage dilutes the family blood. Circumstances, 
which serve to evoke the fire of genius or talent, often 
allow it to slumber for subsequent generations. Es- 
pecially is the success of parents wont to leave buried 
in the luxurious nurture or outward advantao;es of 
ofispring those energies which the res angustce domi 
first developed in their own childhood, early poverty 
nurtured, and a severe but kind adversity trained to 
wrestle in the arena of difficulty, till a surpassing 
strength was attained. From the influence of these 
disturbing causes, it is almost or quite impossible to 
calculate the share which family traits have in the 
problem of individual destiny. Yet a growing atten- 
tion is paid, and, we think, reasonably, to this subject. 



LINEAGE. 5 

Genealogical trees are more assiduously cultivated. 
The ramifications of Idndred are traced to the trunk ; 
thence the root is sought out ; and, still unsatisfied, 
the genealogist inqmi'es for the seed, whence it ger- 
minated, what wind wafted it to the place where it fell 
into the foster bosom of the earth, and, if possible, 
from what tree did the seed come. Such inquiries 
may be sometimes too minute, or pushed beyond the 
clew of fact, into the worse than useless vao;aries of 
mere speculation. Yet, to a reasonable extent, family 
history forms a legitimate introduction to a biography. 
We are, happily, able to afford a glimpse at the 
ancestry of the subject of this narrative. His Amer- 
ican forefather, Thomas Fuller, was lured to these 
shores by curiosity, in 1638. We have an authentic 
account of his tour and its results, in some verses, 
which, as they seem to possess few of the other 
characteristics of poetry, we trust are equally fi'ee 
from its propensity to fiction.* He declares that 
he was won over by the preaching of the famous 
Shepard, the echo of whose eloquence (saith our 
record) " after the lapse of two centuries has scarcely 
died away " ; and that his converted heart was led to 
love liberty to worship God in the wilderness better 
than the flesh-pots of Egypt, left behind him in old 
England. An irreverent family tradition has mah- 



* If the public deem us to speak too lightly of our honored ancestor, 
they can themselves try the poetical question by a reference to " Histori- 
cal Notices of Thomas Fuller and his Descendants, with a Genealogy of the 
Fuller Family," contained in the Now England Historical and Genealogical 
Register for October, 1859, and also to be found in the Appendix to the 
first volume of the edition of the Memoirs and Works of Margaret Fuller, 
pubUbhed by Walker, Wise, & Co. Boston. 1863. 



6 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

ciously dared to assert that the black eyes of a certain 
Miss Richardson, who conditioned the boon of her 
hand upon a New England residence, were the true 
loadstars of American attraction with our worthy pro- 
genitor. But, for ourselves, we at once and forever 
repel the soft impeachment, not merely as reflecting 
upon our ancestor's veracity and parole of honor (for 
he was a lieutenant of militia) ; but because we are 
sure no one could win enough the favor of the Muses 
to coin rhymes, who would fail to acknowledge in his 
verse so honorable a leading as the lustrous eyes of 
a maiden in determining his line of destiny. The 
supposition that, in the blind romance of first love, he 
misconceived his true motive, is alike inadmissible in 
the case of our American patriarch. No ! that he 
was a true Puritan, with a large place for the religious 
element in his character as the controlling motive, is 
abundantly proved, we contend, not only by his own 
words and deeds, but also by the character and lives 
of his descendants. 

Third in the series from Thomas Fuller was Rev. 
Timothy Fuller, who graduated from Harvard Col- 
lege in 1760, and was ordained in 1767, the first 
settled minister of Princeton, Massachusetts, jand, ulti- 
mately having moved to Merrimack, N. H., ahnost 
exclusively applied himself to agriculture, and the 
training of his five sons, all of whom became lawyers, 
with no schooling, before their college days, except the 
home teaching.* In Princeton, he was the proprietor 

* These sons were Timothy Fuller (to be more particularly mentioned), 
Abraham Williams Fuller, Henry Holton Fuller, William Williams Fuller, 
and Elisha Fuller; of whom a brief account may be found in Historical 



LINEAGE. 7 

of the blue Wacliusett, assigned to him as the parish 
farm, — a tract well able to " carry forests on its 
back," yet fitted to bear httle else. 

A descendant thus seeks to account for the parish 
grant to the parson being located upon this mountain, 

Bestowed by his society, 

To ear from thence his salary : 

For ministers, not then, as now, 

Used brains, without the sweatmg brow. 

Why his good people gave the mount, 

And kept the vale, we 've no account. 

Notices of Thomas Fuller and his Descendants, above referred to. They 
have all been gathered to their fathers. On the decease of Henry, in Sep- 
tember, 1852, an eloquent tribute was paid to his memory by Hon. Charles 
G. Loring, in presenting to^the Supreme Judicial Court the resolutions of 
the Bar on that occasion ; to which there was a feeling response from Mr. 
Justice Fletcher. We should delight to dwell longer upon this nucleus of 
five legal brothers, were it not aside from our present purpose. 

Besides the five sons, there were five daughters, who survived Rev. 
Timothy Fuller. From the time of his death, on the third day of July, 
1805, till the death of his son Timothy, on the first day of October, 1835, 
a period of full thirty years, that family circle of brothers and sisters re- 
mained unbroken. Now all have passed away, except Mrs. Deborah Allen 
Belcher, of Farmington, Maine, who, though for many years a widow, 
still enjoys a green old age, honored and beloved by children and grand- 
children. 

These ten children were much attached to each other, as well as to their 
parents, while living, and their memory when departed. . Mr. Loring, in 
his address to the court on the death of Henry, before referred to, gives a 
touching picture of the ten children of Rev. Timothy Fuller, who, some 
quarter of a century after he had gone to his rest, and long after the fomily 
dwelling in Princeton had passed away, visited its site together. Nothing 
remained but its cellar, which time had partially filled, whose rounded 
excavation it had carpeted with greensward. Here the children gathered, 
and, seated in the charmed circle of what was once their home, sang again 
together the sweet hymns to which their tongues had been attuned in 
childhood, by their faithful parents, in the dearly loved home which had 
once rested upon that spot. They did not visit it again, in concert; and 
many of them sought it no more. Death, in a few years, broke that cir- 
cle ; and one after another they went, in quick succession, the way of all 
living. 



8 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

But little produce, almost none 
Could on the lofty hill be grown. 
Yet, to conjecture, charity- 
Forbids that this the cause could be. 
He was a pastor, — and, their sheep 
Shepherds upon the mountains keep : 
Or, that he might, like Moses, stand, 
To look upon the promised land, 
And, with uplifted thought, behold 
The wonders of the heaven unfold ; 
While, still, upon his parish sheep 
'T were easy half an eye to keep; 
As they the fertile valley till. 
Spread out beneath the lofty hill ! 

Rev. Timothy Fuller represented Princeton in the 
Convention of Massachusetts which voted to approve 
and accept the Federal Constitution. Being totally 
opposed to slavery, he voted against that instrument, 
on account of the insidious clause providing for the 
rendition of fugitives from service. This negative vote 
is claimed by his descendants for an hereditary honor ; 
manifesting, as it does, that aversion to oppression 
which has characterized more than one of the family, 
and taking a first step in that antislavery path which 
descendants have followed on. In the Hght of recent 
history, may we not be led to believe that it would 
have been better for this nation had it, while in its 
cradle, strangled the little serpent of slavery, so 
cunningly insinuated into our Constitution, before it 
grew to the monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui 
lumen ademptum, like the baleful dragon of the Apoc- 
alypse. 

This antislavery origin was duplicated, in 1770, by 
the marriage of Rev. Timothy Fuller to Sarah Wil- 
liams, daughter of Rev. Abraham WilHams, of Sand- 



LINEAGE. 9 

wich, Massachusetts. He married Anna Buckminster, 
a near relative of the distinguished clergyman, whom 
Choate aptly styles ' the glorious Buckminster," and 
whose useful and brilliant career, brought to an un- 
timely close, has been commemorated by his distin- 
guished contemporary. Dr. Channing.* The honor 
of this family connection was the occasion of bestow- 
ing the name of Buckminstei-, as the middle bap- 
tismal name of the subject of this memoir. 

The eldest son of Rev. Timothy Fuller, bearing his 
father's name, graduated from Harvard University in 
1801, at the age of twenty-three, with the second 
honors ; having his only preparatory training in the 
home school, when, pari passu with Latin and Greek, 
he acquired those habits of industry and endurance, 
which, even more than learning and talent, form the 
sure capital of success in life. His high college rank 
was the more creditable, that he was obliged to defray 
his expenses by teaching school in the vacations, and 
even during a part of the term, — an episode, which 
not only encroached upon- his time, but also tasked the 
energies he would have been glad to apply solely to 
the pursuits of a college student. He himself thought 
he should have borne off the first honors, had he not 
felt obliged to take an influential part in a college re- 
bellion, which he regarded as justified and called for 
by the students' grievances. He was admitted to the 

* Buckminster, as a child, was a precocious and eager reader. It is re- 
lated that he was, one day, intent on reading in a room by himself, leaning 
against the mantel. Ho remained in this posture, entirely absorbed, for 
several hours, till he fainted from exhaustion; and the family hearing him 
fall, rushed in to find him on the floor in a swoon. 
1* 



10 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

bar, after the usual term of preparatory study, and 
for many years had his office in Boston. 

Timothy Fuller rapidly rose to distinction at the 
bar, being noted for close reasoning and high profes- 
sional character. He joyfully devoted the first-fruits 
of professional success on the altar of family love, 
faithfully assisting liis younger brothers in their strug- 
gles to obtain an education. He took Henry into 
partnership, — a favor he repaid years afterwards by 
conferring the same advantage upon Timothy's son, 
Kichard. He was especially kind to those in humble 
ch'cumstances, and readily espoused their cause in the 
forum for a small compensation, and often at the risk 
of receivino; none. 

He had a natural fluency and facility in extempore 
speaking, in which he was semper paratus^ and more 
successful than in the labors of the pen. This afforded 
him ready entrance, and of itself almost drew him 
to political life. His moral and religious nature and 
characteristic benevolence led him to embrace the 
principles of republican democracy, whose mission he 
believed to be the general diffusion of knowledge, 
the elevation of the humble, the political equality of 
all races and conditions of men, and human brother- 
hood, as announced in the sublime epitome of the 
American Declaration of Independence. He was a 
member of the Massachusetts Senate from 1813 to 
1816, a Representative in Congress from 1817 to 
1825, Speaker of the Massachusetts House of Rep- 
resentatives in 1825, and a member of the Executive 
Council in 1828. 

He is still remembered as chairman of the Com- 



LINEAGE. 11 

mittee on Naval Affairs in the House of Representa- 
tives of the United States, having the good fortune 
to perform the duties of that position in a manner 
acceptable to the naval service, as well as to the gen- 
eral advantage. His heart echoed the lament of the 
Seminole Indians, forcibly expatriated from their na- 
tive hunting-grounds, and carried far away toward 
the setting sun. His long and elaborate speech in 
their behalf, which may be read in the records of 
the debates of the House upon that interesting topic, 
produced a marked impression, but could not stay 
that career of national wrono; to the weaker races 
scandalously denominated " manifest destiny," the re- 
tributive penalty for which Providence seems now vis- 
iting upon us in the bloody scourge of civil war. 

He also made a strong speech in opposition to the 
Missouri Compromise, maintainmg that not an inch of 
territory should be left to the blighting influence of 
slavery. He thought that- while conflicting interests 
were a fair subject of compromise, principles of eternal 
justice never were. In yielding material interests by 
compromise, man is giving away what is his own ; 
but in compromising the principles of justice, he is 
daruig to give up something of those sacred claims 
of right which do not belong to man, and cannot 
be in any measure reUnquished without robbing God. 
To say that we avoid a greater evil by sanctioning a 
smaller one, he regarded as a reflection upon the rule 
of human conduct laid down by the Almighty, re- 
quiring us to do right and leave the consequences to 
him. History has proved that all the compromises 
with slavery were really the onward marches of its 



12 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

encroaching waves, thus gathering volume and mo- 
mentum perfidiously to sweep over the barriers of 
"thus far and no farther," submitted to by the slave 
power as only a temporary expedient and means of 
fraud. He was also influential in the election of John 
Quincy Adams to the Presidency. A pamphlet, pub- 
lished by him, entitled " The Election for the Presi- 
dency considered," had a wide circulation. 

Timothy Fuller was a religious man. While in 
college, he sedulously examined the evidences of 
Christianity, and reached, by patient research, a de- 
liberate conviction of its truth, which could never 
afterwards be shaken. He at once joined himself to 
the Church, of which he remained a life-long member 
and a careful observer of its sacred ceremonies. He 
attended divine worship constantly with his family, 
and regularly ministered at the home altar in the 
" church, which was in his own house." Nor could 
he be induced, under any pretext, to perform sec- 
ular business on the Sabbath. When he first went 
to Washington, he purchased a new Bible, known in 
the family as his " Washington Bible." He marked 
in it the twentieth verse of the forty-ninth Psalm, — 
" Man that is in honor, and understandeth not, is like 
the beasts that perish." Early in his professional 
career he cherished a project of becoming a preacher, 
but desh-ed to first secure a maintenance, that he might 
discharge the duties of the sacred office with entire 
independence. 

In 1809, he made a happy alliance in marriage with 
Margaret Crane, daughter of Major Peter Crane, of 
Canton, Massachusetts. The father served in the 



LINEAGE. 13 

Revolutionary war. He acted as chaplain, at one 
time, of his regiment in the army. 

Margaret may be truthfully styled a " good match " 
for her husband, for her character was the comple- 
ment of his, and each had prominent traits where 
those of the other were deficient. Thus, while he 
dealt in reason, and approached all subjects intellectu- 
ally, her sphere was the fancy and imagination. His 
tastes were for the practical and useful ; hers for the 
ideal and beautiful. Each yielded to the wishes of 
the other. She leaned on him for views and opinions, 
discerning his judgment and implicitly trusting his 
results ; and he was careful to gratify her aesthetic 
tastes. Her ideality had taken especially the direc- 
tion of flowers, and he provided for her an extensive 
garden, though, for sport, he insisted on his own 
bed of dandelions and marigolds, which, he laugh- 
ingly insisted, far exceeded her exotics in real beauty 
and value. In temperament, too, they were admi- 
rably matched. He, always industrious and over- 
worked, needed the elastic influence of her buoyant 
and exuberant spirits. With theii' diversity of traits, 
they, had the oneness of aspiration and aim which is 
needed happily to cement the marriage union. Both 
were pious ; — he especially in the department of judg- 
ment and principle ; she, in that of religious emotion 
and affection. Both loved children and home ; — he, 
careful to provide, solicitous to develop and stimulate 
his children, and always anxiously reaching forward to- 
ward their future ; she, a sunbeam of solace and cheer, 
a tender mother to soothe each childish grief and to 
shed a radiance over the present hour. She did not 



14 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

love the children more than he ; but they appreciated 
her love at once, while justice to his was deferred till 
the retrospect of riper years. He was not, however, 
by any means a stem parent. He gave each night 
a touching proof of his fatherly tenderness, by visiting 
the couch where the children had sunk to rest, and 
pressing a kiss upon their unconscious lips. 

Soon after his marriage, he purchased, for a resi- 
dence, a large dwelling-house situated upon CheiTy 
Street, Cambridge Port. In this mansion, which the 
children called " the Home House," were bom Sarah 
Margaret, Julia Adelaide, Eugene, William Henry, 
Ellen Kilshaw, Arthur Buckminster, and Richard 
Frederick. Julia Adelaide died in infancy ; and all 
have now passed fi'om the stage of mortal life, except 
William and Richard. On the year of the birth of 
Margaret, her father set out a row of elm-trees in 
front of the residence ; which may still be seen, of 
a large growth, stationed, like huge sentinels, before 
the mansion. But, alas ! they protect no longer the 
family who first set them there, and resorted for a 
while to their increasing shade. 

Mr. Fuller first sought Cambridge as a residence, 
in order to withdraw as much as possible from the 
contagion of an epidemic, then raging in Boston ; and 
lie never afterwards resided in the city. 



CHAPTER II. 

CHILDHOOD. 
" The child is father of the man. '' 




iRTHUR BUCKMINSTER FULLER was 

born in Cambridge Port, Massachusetts, on 
the tenth day of August, 1822. Here he 
was nurtured, till the family removed, when 
he was about five years of age, to a mansion in Old 
Cambridge, which his father purchased of Chief 
Justice Dana. It was situated upon high land, near 
the Colleges, still called, from its original proprietor, 
'' Dana Hill." 

The family were much attached to the dwelling in 
Cambridge Port, styled the " Home House " ; though 
its attractions were chiefly intrinsic, consisting of the 
sunshine of family love and the charm of the birth- 
place. It boasted, however, a beautiful garden, se- 
cluded by a high, close fence, and decorated with 
trees, vines, and flowers. At its western extremity was 
a gate, always locked, behind which the sun set in 
glory ; stimulating by its mystery the children's fancy, 
to imagine, that, if opened, it would jadmit to a bright- 
er land.* The prospect from the mansion windows 



♦ See Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli. 



16 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

needed to be looked at throuo-h the medium of ardent 
love of home, to be attractive or tolerable. It con- 
sisted of salt marsh, unreclaimed as yet, or made land, 
occupied by dwelling-houses, interspersed with several 
laboratories of the useful arts. Arthur's mother used 
laughingly to relate, that, on the day of removal, he 
gazed wistfully his farewell look at the loved scene, 
sighing, " O, I shall not see the soap 'ui'ks any 
more ! " 

In Margaret Fuller's Unpublished Works,* we find 
the following: reference to the Cambrido;e Port resi- 
dence. She had just returned, at the time of writ- 
ing, from a tour among the mountains. She says : 
" I feel satisfied, as I thought I should, with reading 
these bolder lines in the manuscript of Nature. 
Merely gentle and winning scenes are not enough for 
me. I wish my lot had been cast amid the sources 
of the streams, where the voice of the hidden tor- 
rent is heard by night, where the eagle soars, and 
the thunder resotmds m long peals from side to side, 
where the grasp of a more powerful emotion has rent 
asunder the rocks, and the long purple shadows fall, 
like a broad wing upon the valley. All places, I 
know, like all persons, have beauty, which may be 
discovered by a thoughtful and observing mind; but 
only in some scenes, and "vvith some persons, can I ex- 
pand and feel myself at home. I realize this all the 
more for having passed all my childhood in such a 
place as Cambridge Port. There I had nothing, ex- 
cept the little flower-garden behind the house, and 
the elms before the door. I used to long and pine 

♦ MS. Vol. n. p. 711. 



CHILDHOOD. 17 

for beautiful places, such as I read of. There was 
not one walk for me, except over the bridge. I liked 
that very much ; pleasing myself with the river, the 
lovely undulating line on every side, and the light 
smokes which were seen in certain states of the 
weather." 

Dana Hill was altogether a different spot. In the 
rapid growth of Boston and its suburbs, a few years 
have made dwellings to cluster on the site. But then 
its fair area was almost unoccupied save by the central 
mansion, whose casements, like the eyes of Argus, 
looked upon the green, flowery hills of Brookline and 
Brighton, and the glimmer of the intervening Charles 
River, dyed with the crimson glories of the sunset, 
or bright, in turn, with the bending azure of day and 
the silver lamps of night. From the house, a long 
avenue conducted to the road, lined with the blooming 
borders, where the mother's flowery retainers arrayed 
themselves, paying their tribute of beauty and fra- 
grance, in return for assiduous protection and cul- 
ture. In the lawn, on either hand, were fruit and 
ornamental trees ; while, more in the background, 
like a reserve, was another garden of fruit and 
flowers. 

Here Arthur's family resided for six prosperous 
years ; while the younger children attended several 
private schools. One of these has a conspicuous place 
in memory, owing to the regime of its lady teacher. 
The birch was her sceptre ; and, lest one should be 
weakened in its sway, she kept a bundle of them on 
hand. These she required the boys to procure for 
her ; and woe to them, if they brought iier other than 



18 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

long, straight, and vigorous twigs ! She indulged in 
a feline diversion, when her quick eye could detect 
a boy engaged in the proscribed occupation known 
as "wool-gathering." Watching her occasion, and 
creeping noiselessly behind, she dispelled the day- 
dream with a smart stroke from her birch wand. 
What an awakening was that! what a cruel return 
from illusion to reality ! It may be adduced, as an 
instance of natural depravity, that the other urchins 
sympathized with the teacher in this pursuit, and 
eagerly watched her well-conceived project of sur- 
prise, wishing it success, though themselves liable to 
be made the next victims ; and when the rod made 
its successful and sudden descent, the feat was greeted 
wdth a suppressed applause, w-hich the exclamation of 
the culprit and the startled expression of his coun- 
tenance by no means served to diminish. 

On the elevation of John Quincy Adams to the 
White House, Arthur's father expected a mission to 
Europe, as a token of the appreciation of his influen- 
tial labors on behalf of the successful candidate. But 
the President did not " remember Joseph." In this 
expectation, his daughter Margaret had been encour- 
aged to look eagerly forward to visiting that Europe 
in whose literature she had become so well versed. 
Both were destined to disappointment. This check 
may have continbuted to induce the father to seek 
a more retired sphere of life. But there were other 
motives. He had been long gathering materials 
for a history of his country, which he purposed as the 
crowning labor of his life. He had, besides, a view 
to the education of his children. Attributing his own 



CHILDHOOD. 19 

success in a great measure to the endurance and in- 
dustry acquired by an early experience in the toils 
of agriculture, he desired to subject his boys to the 
same hardening process. Not a little influence, too, 
may have been exerted upon him by the romantic 
retrospect of the afternoon of life upon boyhood's 
morning, in drawing his heart toward those New 
Hampshire hills, whose blue walls enclosed its horizon ; 
feeling, — 

" as in a pensive dream, 

When all his active powers are still, 
A distant dearness in the hill, 
A secret sweetness in the stream." 

Induced by such motives, Arthur's father sold his 
residence in Cambridge, and occupied the house of 
his brother Abraham, on Brattle Street, in Cambridge, 
for one year, while casting about him for a new loca- 
tion. While Hving here, an accident occurred to 
Arthur and his younger brother, in celebrating the 
glorious Fourth, after the manner of independent 
boys. Arthur early manifested an enthusiasm for the 
observance of this birthday of our liberty, with mimic 
artillery and banner, which is thus pleasantly alluded 
to by his sister Margaret : '" I 'm independent ! ' as 
Arthur shouted and waved his flag ; when Eugene 
cruelly stopped him, and made him come in to learn 
his lesson." * His enthusiasm was more seriously in- 
terrupted on the occasion of the accident referred to. 
The boys had several times discharged a little cannon, 
running with shouts into the cloud of smoke, when 
it was inadvertently aimed at the box of powder, 

♦ Unpublished Works. Vol. D. p. 828. 



20 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

which ignited with a fearful explosion, prostrating 
both children, and so burning them as to confine them 
for several days to their bed. 

The new family residence was in Groton, Massa- 
chusetts, a prosperous town of Middlesex County, dis- 
tant some thirty miles from Boston, and at that time 
principally devoted to agriculture.* The house and 
grounds had been fitted up with much care and ex- 
pense by Samuel Dana, a Judge of the Court of 
Common Pleas. The white mansion, situated upon 
a gradual eminence, looked complacently upon the 
blue Wachusett, Monadnock, and Peterborough Hills. 
It was quite attractive to childish eyes, its ample front 
bathed in the sunhght, seemmg, on approach, to ex- 
pand into a smile of welcome. Alas ! we little antici- 
pated, as we crossed its threshold, the bitter cup of 
family sorrows we were to drink there ! Yet that, 
discipline was not without a beneficent compensation 
for those who submissively acknowledged that God 
"in faithfulness afilicted them." 

Here opened a new field of activity for all the 
family. The father applied himself to superintending 
the husbandry of fifty acres, and making alterations 
and additions to the buildings. Nor did he wholly 
decline the professional avocations which still sought 
him out in his retirement, and led him again occa- 
sionally into the forum. He also gave some hours 
to his projected history, and applied himself especially 
to the training of his childi-en. In the last-named 
department he was careful to form the children to 

* Caleb Butler, Esq. has composed and piiblished a careful history of 
Groton, containing many interesting facts. 



CHILDHOOD. 21 

habits of early rising, promptness in action, industry, 
and concentration upon the matter in hand. Regu- 
larly were they summoned in the morning ; and there 
was no more " folding of the hands in sleep." They 
were obliged to respond at once with their feet strik- 
ing the floor. It happened that the butcher usually 
drove into the yard at the same time ; and the rum- 
bling of his chariot, as it broke upon the dream-land, 
and seemed to suggest the father's call, serving as its 
unwelcome prelude, made the useful vender of meats 
unpopular with the boys. 

The observance of the Lord's day he regarded 
as of the first importance, and strictly enjoined it upon 
his children as he did also a reverential regard for 
the public Fasts and Thanksgivings, instituted by our 
pious Pilgrim fathers. The church edifice stamped 
its picture on the children's memory. Arthur thus 
alludes to it in his remarks at the public dinner on the 
Bicentennial Anniversary of Groton : "I remember 
the ancient church, then unchanged by the hand of 
modern improvement. I can see to-day those old- 
fashioned pews, so high that only by a peep through 
the rounds which ornamented their tops could I dis- 
cern the faces of youthful comrades ; and there seems 
yet to echo in my ear the hearty slam with which 
the pew seats, raised during the prayer, descended 
in a rude chorus of accompaniment at the signal of 
the minister's ' Amen ! ' — a not unwelcome word, 
I fear, to undevout children of that day or this." 
Quite as impressive to the youthful mind was the 
high pulpit, ascended by a winding stair, on whose 
dizzy elevation the preacher was just visible, emerging 



22 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

from the damask cushion toto vertice supra. What 
lent a great interest to the minister in the childish 
view, was his apparently critical position of immi- 
nent peril from the huge hemispheral sounding-board 
suspended by a frail tenure above his head. There 
was nothing to indicate to the child's speculation that 
this massive superstructure was hollow, and therefore 
adequately secured by the apex fixed to the ceiling.* 
Noteworthy also was the psalmody, especially the 
agonized moment when the strangely assorted instru- 
ments strove to take the pitch. The individuality of 
the surly bass-viol and the intensely strung fiddle was 
never lost in then' assembled harmony. Alas ! the 
glory of those orchestras has forever passed away ! 

In family government, Timothy Fuller did not 
wholly dispense with the rod, though we recall but 
one instance when Arthur was made the subject of it. 
That occasion is well remembered, because, from par- 
ticipation in the punishment, it made a marked im- 
pression both upon the back and mind. Arthur and 
Richard (by two years his younger brother) had been 
quarrelling, in that unmalicious, but bearish brotherly 
style paternally denominated " squabbling." Smart- 
ing with reciprocal wrongs, they resorted to the legal 
father as the fountain of family justice, each prefer- 
ring his complaint. They did not fail to obtain what 
Mohere's Scapin so little rehshed, — justice ; but, though 
no reproach could be cast upon the unsullied ermme 
of the family judge, yet the result of the cause dis- 
couraged them from afterward submitting their griev- 

* A witty clergyman compared these old-fashioned pulpits to a hogshea'^, 
with the minister speaking out of the bunghole. 



CHILDHOOD. 23 

ances to tlie same tribunal. Hardly were the pleadings 
in, when the proceedings began to assume an ominous 
aspect. The father proposed to adjourn to his cham- 
ber, as affording a better opportunity to sift the mat- 
ter. Among the family effects was a certain black 
riding-stick, with which the children, in their eques- 
trian efforts, were wont to invigorate the energies of 
the tardy family steed, known as "old Charley." 
The father accompanied his proposition to adjourn to 
the chamber by the assumption of this stick, which 
may have resembled the black rod of Parliament. 
This significant act justified the apprehension that 
the case would have an unpleasant issue for one or 
the other litigant, and, before the die was cast deter- 
mining which, the rod cast an unpleasant shadow upon 
both. The boys felt some disposition to withdraw, 
for a settlement in pais. But galeatum sero duelli 
poenitet. In other words, the locus poenitentice was 
reserved for a later stage of the proceedings. 

Arrived at the chamber, the parental judge directed 
Arthur, as the eldest, to open the case. In vain 
Richard attempted to break in, with an indignant 
protest against the allegations and arguments. The 
court calmly but firmly enjoined silence upon him till 
Arthur had first fully enjoyed his constitutional right 
to be heard. When his breath or narrative had given 
out, the signal was made for Richard's wordy onset. 
Arthur, in his turn, was thwarted in eager attempts 
to interrupt the younger advocate. When both sides 
had been duly heard, the court, with no dilatory curia 
advisare vult^ proceeded forthwith to deliver a some- 
what elaborate judgment, reviewing the variances as 



24 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

well as coincidences in the statements of each side^ 
and drawing from the latter the inference that botk 
were to blame ; concluding with the sentence that 
the boys should take off their jackets, in order that 
the black rod might be more closely applied to their 
backs. As the father assured them that the infliction 
would pain him much more than them, they indulged 
the hope of a light chastisement ; in which, as in 
speaking, Arthur, from priority of age, had the first 
lot. This expectation proved illusory ; for, though 
the whipping was calm and deliberate, it was emi- 
nently thorough ; nor did he '' spare the child for his 
crying." 

Another illustration of home government was fur- 
nished soon after the removal to Groton. It was 
early summer, the skies blue and bright, the breezes 
grateful, and the birds melodious. How dull and 
dingy the school-room m comparison ! Out-of-door 
laborers seemed to enjoy a comparative holiday to 
Arthur, who had thus far only applied himself to 
work when so inclined, for variety, and had no con- 
ception of the labor improhus which omnia vincit. He 
also persuaded Richard to be of the same mind ; and 
they both besieged father and mother ■^^dth entreaties 
to allow them to work instead of study. The father 
held out long against them, assuring them that they 
would soon find labor very irksome, and v/ish to return 
to study again. But no ! they were sure they should 
enjoy labor in the free air better than the pent-up 
toil of the school, in the beautiful season which lured 
all creatm'es forth. He advised them to try the ex- 
periment, before a final choice, offering to let thera 



CHILDHOOD. 25 

work for a few days on trial, and to continue it or 
return to school, according as they should find most 
agreeable. But they were so sure they should like 
work, that they preferred to sever the school tie, and 
make choice of it at once. . The father, having warned 
them that, if they made this election, it would not 
be revocable, thought it would be a good lesson for 
them to have their own way. 

Great was their delight in getting rid of school ; 
and for the first half-day they exulted in then' choice. 
But presently blisters and fatigue came, and they 
began to waver. They held out for a time, ashamed 
to admit their folly, but gradually gave way ; and 
then they pleaded for leave to go back to school. 
This the father firmly declined. The boys fretted 
and murmured, but failed to move the father. As 
a last resort, they fled from the work one day, and 
ran to entreat their mother, throwing themselves 
upon the floor, and bewailing their sad fate. The 
mother was much moved, and soon joined her en- 
treaties with theirs to bring over the father, who 
had followed the boys, and stood a calm spectator 
of the scene. He replied, that to yield would have 
a very bad influence upon the boys ; that they had 
chosen to rush into the difficulty, despite of coun- 
sel and warning, and ought now to bear the conse- 
quences of such conduct, as they would have to on 
the stage of life, for which they were training; that 
they had entered into a fair and deliberate engage- 
ment, and ought not to wish nor to be permitted to 
violate it. The adamantine statue of Themis would 
have swerved as soon as he ; and so back the boys 

2 



26 CHAPLAIN FULLKR. 

had to go to tlieir ino;lorious toll. Tliat lesson was 
not forgotten. 

Yet the father did not bear too hardly upon the 
boys, nor require them to work too many hours. He 
carefully watched their powers of endurance, and 
imposed no task upon them which might trench upon 
the elasticity of childhood. He furnished them suit- 
able opportunities for sport and recreation, in which 
he cordially sympathized. Spartan endurance he de- 
sired them to acquire, for he possessed and prized it 
liimself. He was in advance of his day in cold-water 
bathing, w^hich he regularly practised, in a cold room, 
even in winter. He slept with the window open all 
winter; a practice which at first dismayed his wife, 
but which she learned herself to value. In winter, he 
occasionally ran barefoot a considerable distance in the 
snow, to which feat she never was reconciled. 

Plodding manual toil never suited Arthur's mer- 
curial temperament. He sympathized with Daniel 
Webster, whose scythe never hung to suit him, ex- 
cept when it hung in an apple-tree. • He reheved his 
tasks, however, by an active and playful imagination, 
recounting fables to his companion Richard, and con- 
structing air-castles for his amusement. 

He would represent a rich man rolling in a coach 
with gilded trappings, to bear him to congenial scenes 
of wealth and luxuiy, but leaving the aggravated 
Richard ignobly plying his hatchet at the tedious 
brush block. Or else he would personify and weave 
into his narrative the grotesque traits of every per- 
son who crossed our path having any singularity. 
After a while he brought together these caricatures 



CHILDHOOD. 27 

into an assemblan;e called " The Universal Band " : 
whose adventui;es beguiled many an hour of work. 
After the boys had retired, too, at night, Arthur 
continued these humorous narratives, with such an 
exhilarating effect upon him and his audience of 
one, that their peals of laughter disturbed the family, 
and the parents came and enjoined silence. One 
of Arthur's imaginary personages was an eccentric 
man, who never could be converted to the electrical 
theory, and would wear a brass hat for his protec- 
tion in thunder-storms ; nor could repeated lightning 
strokes beat into his cranium a different conviction ; 
he always attributing his wonderful preservation to 
his brazen covering. Another was a tall individual, 
with an ardent thirst for overhearing conversations, 
and a faculty of projecting his ears for this purpose 
several yards from his head, till they had drank in 
the desired information. Another was a person of 
very timorous temper, constantly internipting the most 
festive discourse with his unseasonable croak of alarm. 
We forbear to spin Arthur's yarns over again, lest 
they should not impress the public risibles as they 
did our own, in the blithesome days of early boy- 
hood, before the shadow of death fell upon our house- 
hold. Suffice it to say, that, though we have read 
Dickens with hearty merriment, he never drew from 
us that almost self-annihilating laughter w^ith which we 
were seized in Arthur's recitals. 

We ought not to omit, in this connection, our first 
military experience in a company of martial boys, 
organized and drilled on our common, by William A. 
Richardson, then attending school at Groton, after- 



28 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

ward Arthur's classmate in college, and now our hon- 
ored Judge of Probate and Insolvency for the County 
of Middlesex. 

Arthur's fatlier instilled into him lessons of nature, 
for which he had a passion, and the Groton scenery 
opened fair pages. He walked forth with his children 
in the sparkling crystal mornings, holding their hands 
in his, and sympathizing in the exuberance of their 
buoyant spirits. At such a time, when asked if he 
found his rural retirement suited to his taste, he de- 
clared that he only regretted he had not taken the 
step earlier. He added to the pleasures of the walk 
by genial conversation, encouraging the children to 
enter upon themes sometimes beyond their years. He 
spoke of the short-sighted pursuits in which men were 
ordinarily absorbed, unworthy of the capacities and 
aims of immortal beings. He touched upon human 
greatness, declaring that the pen wielded a greater 
power, and secured a higher and nobler as well as 
more lasting fame than the sword, — instancing this 
by Walter Scott, whose name, he said, would have an 
increasing lustre when Napoleon's star had grown dim. 
He seized occasions to commend industry and econ- 
omy in the little things of life which make up the 
mickle, and to point out the folly and peril of pecu- 
niary speculation. 

The changing scenes of nature, with whose every- 
day face out-of-door occupations and sports made Ar- 
thur familiar, impressed his mind indelibly and gave 
a habit to his thought. His very active fancy could 
not be bound down to the slow round of manual labor, 
and was perpetually star-gazing, or sky-gazing, or 



CHILDHOOD. 29 

gii-ing a voice to the wind and waterfall. Hence it 
happened, in his after life, that, habitually in public 
speaking, he appealed to the current events of the 
natural world as a commentary to his thought ; and 
if any change passed over nature's face, even while 
he was speaking, he made use of it as aptly as if he 
had expected it, or its very mission were to serve him 
for illustration. The overcasting cloud, the returning 
triumph of sunshine, the rainbow, the showers, the 
snows, the wind, the sun, moon, and stars, day and 
night, spring, summer, autumn, winter, — these were 
his alphabet or vocabulary, learned by heart in his 
childhood's intimacy with nature. In his remarks at 
the Groton Bicentennial Dinner, before alluded to, he 
thus refers to the scenes of nature : " The pleasant 
walks by day in your beautiful groves and fields, our 
sports on the river's bank, the moonlight pastimes 
beneath the ancient elms near my honored father's 
dwelling, the regard of my young heart for those once 
living on earth, and now no less truly living in heaven, 
can never be forgotten." 

Before the house was a semicircle of two or three 
acres, at the bottom of which ranged some pines, 
where the redbreast robins regularly sang their tuneful 
loves, and in the same nests, year after year, laid their 
blue eggs. As their melodies told of their home joys, 
their parental anxieties and triumphs, when their little 
ones were hatched, nurtured, and at last committed to 
the air on full-fledged wings, he reminded the children 
that we could learn to be considerate of them, by re- 
flecting upon their own domestic attachments. He in- 
dulged the children in keeping pets. To each was a 



80 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

chicken given from tlie spring brood. Of coui'se tins 
chicken must survive the ides of Thanksgiving, and 
must hatch one or more broods of new exempts next 
season. In this way, Hke Jacob's speckled cattle, the 
poultry-yard soon p"assed to the children," and we re- 
member the father repossessing himself at least twice 
by purchase. 

Arthm- had also a tame blue dove he called Divie^ 
which was a constant companion in the house and 
field, her master's finger being her favorite perch. 
This lovely bird, in the familiarities of several months, 
endeared itself to the hearts of all the household, and 
cruelly were they lacerated when it fell a prey to the 
spu'it of evil in the form of a cat. Arthur was so 
much affected by the loss that he would never have 
another dove. 

In this varied development, under the happy au- 
spices of a loving father, was Arthur's childhood faith- 
fully improved. But the even tenor of his hfe in 
Groton was destined soon to be interrupted by a fear- 
ful shock of fate, which was to precipitate upon his 
tender years the cares of manhood, scarcely permitting 
the orphan to weep for his dearly loved sire, in the 
pressui'e of new and grave duties. 

His father had a naturally delicate constitution ; 
although, fortified by strict temperance, a spare and 
regular diet, cold-water bathing, and habitual exercise 
in the open air, he had been enabled to endure the 
fatigues of public life and the exhausting labors of a 
lawyer in full practice. As a httle child he was puny 
and sickly, and though he rallied so as to acquire an 
average strength, *liis health always demanded careful 



CUILDIIOOD. 31 

attention. As lie returned to farm labors, lie seemed 
to fancy liimself a boy again, and able to engage in its 
pm'suits as actively as ever. His spirit was as eager 
and vigorous and resolute, but the frame of fifty had 
neither the elasticity nor endurance of the age of fif- 
teen. Neither he nor his family appeared to realize 
this. His energy prompted him to inspirit the men 
he employed by his own example, and they sought 
for the triumph of the physical over the intellectual 
by outdoing him and putting his strength to the test. 
We remember him, in the violent heat of summer, 
loading grain, with the perspiration flowing over his 
brow, while the hired man Avas endeavoring to pitch 
on the load faster than it could be arranged on the 
cart. After such efforts he was compelled to lie down 
on his bed from exhaustion, yet no one thouglit of evil 
consequences. 

Among other faim improvements, he paid par- 
ticular attention to draining low lands, and bringing 
to fertility the mines of agricultural wealth borne 
thither and deposited by the water. Vegetable matter 
while saturated decays slowly, but when the water 
is let off and the warm sunbeams admitted, decompo- 
sition is rapid. Arthur's father, in the summer and 
early autumn of 1835, had caused some low lands to 
be thus drained and opened to the action of the sun. 
It was afterwards thought (with how much justice we 
do not undertake to decide) that malaria was exhaled 
from this drained land, and led to the severe family 
sickness of that season. Certain it is, that Margaret 
at this time was brought near the gates of death with 
ty]-)hus fever. Soon after her recovery, her father was 



32 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

seized with Asiatic cholera, and the same autumn the 
two boys, Arthur and Richard, were ill with fever. 
The fatal sickness, however, of the father, at least, 
may have had other causes. Perhaps his constitution, 
naturally so delicate, had worn out. Not long before 
his death, while as yet having no symptoms of sick- 
ness, he expressed to Arthur a presentiment that his 
departure from earth was near at hand. He spoke of 
it seriously, but with cheerfulness. Perhaps he may 
have been admonished by a declension of strength 
incident to the wearing out of the body, as it draws 
towards the close of its term. Or the proximity of 
the spiritual world may have touched some delicate 
chords in his nature, and made itself apprehended by 
a new and spiritual experience. 

On the morning of the thirtieth day of September, 
1835, Arthur's father had appeared in usual health ; 
and for dinner had partaken of rice and milk, his 
favorite repast. In the afternoon of the day, while 
in the house, he was seized with sudden illness, vomit- 
ing and sinking helpless to the floor. He was imme- 
diately taken up, borne to his chamber, and laid upon 
his bed. As soon as he was carried there, he declared 
calmly that he felt his sickness would be mortal ; and 
was able to say httle else, such was the agony of his 
sickness. The family physician, who was speedily 
summoned, pronounced the malady to be Asiatic chol- 
era, although there was at that time no other known 
case of this fell scourge in New England, and though, 
from habits of strict temperance, and simple, abstemi- 
ous diet, he was an improbable subject for the disease. 
Yet the symptoms were indubitable ; and the doctor's 



CHILDHOOD. 33 

opinion was afterwards confirmed by a post-mortem 
examination conducted by several physicians. 

The conflict between the defensive forces of nature 
and the assault of disease was short but terrible. For 
twenty hours, alternate spasms and chills, attended 
with a cold perspiration beading the marble brow, 
evidenced the progressive parallels with which the 
besieging foe advanced to storm the citadel of life. 
But no groan, no murmur of complaint did the suf- 
ferer permit to escape him. At last there Avas a lull, 
preparatory to the final onset, which was to break 
upon his life and liberate the tried spuit, to know 
no more pain, no more sorrow, no more death. He 
now, in a faint whisper, being too much reduced to 
speak aloud, expressed his desire to bid farewell to 
his family ; and, as they gathered about his bedside, 
he smile'd faintly, but with undimmed love, upon the 
dear weeping circle. The parting kiss he strove to 
return with his cold lips, while his eye irradiated un- 
dying love, and the light of the familiar smile flickered 
transiently upon his pallid features. The seal of 
that kiss could never be forgotten or effaced. It at- 
tested a love stronger than death ; and it pathetically 
reiterated the lessons of fatherly admonition, counsel, 
and affection which those lips could no longer utter. 
The speechless symbol was more expressive than 
fluent language. It served as the solemn authenticat- 
ing seal set to the childi-en's life commission by the 
dying father, and mutely expressed what he could no 
longer speak. His undying affection in the dying 
hour crowned the uniform kindness and tenderness 
of his life. FiniB coronal opus. And the perfect re- 
2* o 



34 CHAPLAIN rULLER. 

pose of his trust in God in that time of utmost need 
ennobled him in his children's view, and threw a glory 
over his virtues. 

Soon after this farewell scene, he was released from 
his sufferino-s. It was evenino; when he breathed 
his last. The children slept, and were first awakened 
to know themselves orphans by the solemn tones of 
the minister's prayer, proceeding from the chamber 
of death. Sad indeed it is, when the young child 
first says to himself, " I have no father ! " The 
mother's love lacks the father's power to protect, pro- 
vide, and open the path of life. Yet in this case the 
gloom of the occasion was soothed by the repose of 
the father's face, as he lay low m death. All trace 
of suffering had passed away, and the features had 
not been emaciated in the short season of sickness. 
The expression of his countenance was pleasant and 
almost smiling, seeming bound by the lightest spell 
of slumber; and, except that the eyes were closed, 
looking as the children had seen him when engaged 
with his papers, humming to himself some gentle 
strain. 

His age at his death was fifty-seven years. He 
was temporarily interred in Cambridge ; and, finally, 
in the family lot at Mount Auburn. 



CHAPTER III 



YOUTH. 

"The individual man, — how does he, on his birthdays, reflect upon the period of 
life already gone ! behold, as it were in vision, the solemn pageant of scenes long 
passed away : look on paintings, hung in Memory's gallery, of deeds performed in 
bygone years, and over which the veil is generally drawn as too sacred for common 

and uncaring eyes How does he rejoice in the thought of early struggles as 

requisite for the development of his character, and early hardships suited to task 
and strengthen his powers of endurance." — Bi-Centennial Address^ delivered at 
Groton, Massachusetts, Oct. 31st, 1855, by Rev. Arthcr B. Fuller. 




Y tlie death of the father, the main pillar 
of the family edifice was stricken away. 
Not merely was affection lacerated by the 
loss, and the aching void of afflicted love 
felt in the place which the honored parent had filled, 
but there was also a sense of helplessness as well as 
loneliness ; and forebodings of the future mingled 
their shadows with the gloom of bereavement. This 
was not exclusively from lack of property inheritance, 
but still more from an entire inexperience in business, 
and a strong distaste for it, in those on whom the 
management of affairs now devolved. The mother 
was as naturally inapt for finances as one of her 
flowers, cherished by her as she herself had been by 
her husband's fostering care. She was characterized 
by quick perception, devoted affection, and constant 
delight in all the forms of beauty ; but she had never 



36 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

learned to calculate ; and she felt wholly helpless as tho 
managing head of the family. Her daughter Margaret 
was her mam rehance. But that daughter, though 
learned in the lore of many tongues, and gifted 
with force, courage, and energy, had one weak point, 
and that was business. She dreaded computation. 
Mammon she felt never looked auspiciously on her 
destiny. She was not a votary at his shrine ; and the 
offended numen did not shine upon her fortunes. 

Of the rest of the family, Eugene, her younger 
brother, was engaged in the study of the legal profes- 
sion. He had as yet acquired little knoAvledge of 
business, and could not relieve his mother and sister 
from the weight of care. Yv^illiam, still younger, was 
at a distance, engaged in mercantile pursuits. Arthur 
was but thirteen years of age. 

The property left by the father was mostly real 
estate, and, though unembarrassed with debt, was but 
Httle productive. Lands he acquired he generally 
retained. The Cambridge Port house had never been 
sold, though it rented for but a trifling sum. He left 
two farms ; but farms are proverbially unprofitable, 
except to owners applying their own hands to the 
task of culture. It may be well this should be so ; 
at any rate, so it is in New England. One of these 
farms, situated in Easton, Massachusetts, came upon 
his hands under peculiar circumstances. He had been 
professionally employed to draw the deed of convey- 
ance. The purchaser, making no mention of the 
grantor being married, it might not have been deemed 
the duty of one employed merely as a draughtsman 
to insert the release of dower. This was omitted ; 



YOUTH. 37 

the husband died, and the widow came forward to 
claim her thirds. Acting from the dictates of a deh- 
cate sense of honor, the lawyer himself assumed the 
purchase ; and thus came to be the owner, till his 
death, of a distant farm, from which he never re- 
ceived an annual return of two per centum of the 
cost. He visited it yearly, accompanied by some 
of his children. It abounded in stones, which had 
been built into walls of many feet in thickness, that 
might have served to defend a city. On it stood an 
old red house, boarded in the ancient permanent 
style with white oak. Here the widow enjoyed her 
" thirds " ; living in a sort of contest of longevity 
betAveen her own tenement of clay and the oak- 
boarded red house. She succumbed at last ; but she 
outlived her cotenant. 

There was also a little land, of trifling value, in 
Salem, Massachusetts, a few bank shares, and the 
mortgage for the purchase-money of the estate on 
Dana Hill, Cambridge ; property appraised at some- 
thing over twenty thousand dollars, yet, as will readily 
be perceived, affording a slight income, and small 
means for the family maintenance and the education 
of several children. It required a very different style 
of life from what the family had been habituated to 
while the father managed affairs, and his professional 
earnings were equivalent to a handsome annuity. 

Arthur's mother now relied upon Margaret for judg- 
ment and counsel. The devoted daughter, with a 
noble spirit of self-sacrifice, gave up her plans of for- 
eign culture, just ripe for fulfilment, her hterary am- 
bition and pleasures, in obedience to the call of the 



38 CHArLAIN FULLER. 

nearest duty. She said she felt she should not other- 
wise be at peace in her mind. But it was a great 
disappointment to her ; and she was further depressed 
by a sense of incapacity for her new post. Yet she 
determined to make up by courage and energy for her 
deficiencies in business faculty. And she succeeded, 
though at the cost of some shadowed and melancholy, 
yet unrepining hours. 

To perform her task, she felt that the boys should 
be duly impressed with their condition and the neces- 
sity laid upon them in life, and that the family affairs 
should be fully explained and unfolded to them. The 
family had frequent gatherings, like the Indian at 
his council-fires, to discuss future prospects, and ter- 
ribly gloomy and portentous did they seem to the 
young hearts. Fear and helplessness sat at the coun- 
cil-board. 

Arthur was thus seriously affected, and his every 
power called out. We cannot doubt that the lessons 
he now learned were of life-long value to him ; and, 
especially, that what he had to undergo roused his 
energies, and trained him to the resolute habit of 
grappling with difficulties and overcommg obstacles 
which characterized his manhood. 

During the season succeeding the father's death, the 
farm was carried on by the boys, assisted by an inexpe- 
rienced hired man, whose ignorance was only equalled 
by his pretension. Arthur, in the improvised curtain 
narratives which have been alluded to, denominated 
him " The Haughty:," making a caricature of his rash 
and clumsy method of farm-work, and visiting upon 
him an ideal retribution for his presumption. In the 



YOUTH. 39 

course of the season the man became constantly more 
offensive, and Arthur planned a coup cCetat to get rid 
of him. He selected a stout cornstalk-but for himself, 
and another for Richard, and, during the husking 
operations, headed an onset upon " The Haughty." 
The immediate object was not gained, for the defend- 
ant was a full-grown and athletic man. The corn- 
stalks proved too frail a weapon, and were soon broken 
in the vigorous assault, which the party attacked finally 
repelled, and even carried the war into Africa. The 
matter was thence adjourned to the civil tribunal, 
where Margaret acted as judge. Here " The Haugh- 
ty " was loud in his charges, while Arthur justified the 
assault as provoked by many grievances, and instigated 
by the spirit of our heroic revolutionary fathers. ]\Iar- 
garet regarded it as a balanced case, and would not 
censure the boys. Not long after the man's term ex- 
pired, and no new engagement was made with him. 
This cornstalk engagement we deem the more memo- 
rable, because we believe it was Arthur's first martial 
encounter, and his second was the battle of Freder- 
icksburg. We never knew him on any other occa- 
sion to have any conflict with man or boy. As a 
child he was spirited, and always believed in the 
right of self-defence ; nor would he have tamely sub- 
mitted to insult or injury. But his demeanor was not 
such as to invite aggression, and he was always too 
kindly and considerate to provoke strife. 

The following season the family were so fortunate 
as to secure the- services of a faithful and efficient 
man,* who managed the farm affairs as well as if his 

* Since a prosperous farmer upon acres of his own, in Groton. 



40 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

own, and obtained unprecedented crops. This year, 
with such efficient aid, it was felt that Arthur could be 
spared from the farm, and that the time should be dili- 
gently employed by him in his college preparation. 
He accordingly attended school at the academy in 
Leicester, Massachusetts, of which his father had once 
been a' teacher. He made considerable progress here 
in his studies, and, wdiat is more important, he received 
serious religious impressions at prayer-meetings. As 
early as this, or even earlier, he set his heart upon be- 
coming a minister of the Gospel ; and from this piu'pose 
he never wavered ; nor did we ever hear him, in the 
whole course of his ministerial career, in the sunny 
side and the shady side of the clergyman's life, in trials 
or successes or disappointments, express one regret 
that his choice had fallen upon a calling which he ever 
regarded as most useful and noble. 

During the next season the whole farm-work de- 
volved upon Arthur, at the age of fifteen years, aided 
by his younger brother. The plan and the execution 
of farm culture, the buying and selling, were left to 
them. And the farm was thus successfully carried on, 
with an occasional day-laborer, and steady help during 
the toils of the hay-field. Arthur overcame his natu- 
ral repugnance to labor, and prosecuted farm pursuits 
with the same energy and enthusiasm which he after- 
wards manifested in other fields. Occasionally ex- 
treme heat or fatigue from incessant toil disposed the 
younger brother to give way, but Arthur would hear 
no such word as retreat. He never worked harder 
than in these fields of home, nor did any retrospect 
afford him more satisfaction than the remembrance of 



YOUTH. 41 

his farm labors. An idea of the extent of the work 
may be gathered from the statement, that the boys 
tilled some five or six acres of corn and potatoes, and 
about twenty tons of hay were harvested. The stock 
consisted of three good cows and a pair of oxen, be- 
sides hogs. 

The dairy was cared for by the diligent mother, 
who achieved laborious triumphs in the making of 
butter and cheese, which fully sufficed for the family 
use. Although her house labors were more than equal 
to her slender strength and health, and her years bor- 
dering on fifty, yet she would not permit her numer- 
ous coterie of garden flowers to suffer, nor would she 
incur the expense of the assistance of a gardener, nor 
divert the boys from the necessary and crowded avoca- 
tions of the field. Her flowers she fostered herself, in 
every hour she could snatch from household pursuits, 
toiling in the heat of the sun, and obliged by her near- 
sightedness to stoop to close proximity. Yet her ideal 
darlings sprang up, bloomed and faded, neither choked 
by weeds nor faint through want of irrigation. 

As has been already stated, the family employed 
occasional help in the farming. Such men as worked 
for them no doubt have always their counterpart in 
society. But a few of these characters, who have 
long passed from life's stage, must be sketched here, 
because they were painted on the easel of boyish 
fancy, and their idiosyncrasies furnished sportive 
themes for Arthur's epics, Avliile they enjoyed the 
honor of being enrolled in his " Universal Band." 
One of them, familiarly called '* John," was an in- 
veterate follower of Bacchus, in his cheaper and 



42 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

grosser cups. His only merit was good-nature. We 
have not been able to obliterate from memory his 
always placid but bloated countenance. His ex- 
cesses had fearfully recoiled upon him. With other 
boon companions, he lived with a neighbor in the 
-working season. This neighbor himself adhered 
firmly to principles of total abstinence — from water ! 
He boasted that he had not been thirsty enough for 
twenty years to drink it. And nature had conformed 
to his tastes, by giving him a jug figure, surmounted 
with a bald head like a stopper. Certain friends of 
his, congenial spirits, of which charmed circle John 
formed a link, lived with him in the summer season, 
doing just days' works enough to pay for -a little mea't 
and a great deal of di'ink ; and, when they got " out 
of spirits," taking up their winter-quarters in the 
poorhouse. Sucli specimens of depravity tended to 
give the boys a horror of those habits which had 
wrought their degradation ; and the mother did not 
decline to employ them occasionally, in special exigen- 
cies, as their conversation and deportment were not 
objectionable when their friend Alcohol had deserted 
them in their need, and they were trying to obtain the 
golden lure to draw him back. Her pity for them 
exceeded her censure, as it did in the case of all the 
degraded and unfortunate. This they well knew, and 
were sometimes emboldened to enter the garden, which 
bordered on their own demesne, when she was en- 
gaged with her flowers, under pretext of admiring her 
favorites, but jeally with an eye to the fruits which 
abounded there. We well remember one occasion, 
when John had entered the garden and climbed into 



YOUTH. 43 

a choice clierry-tree. There we spied him among the 
green leaves, his red and bacchic countenance hke a 
huge cherry engaged in devouring the little cherries, 
as the rod of Aaron swallowed those of the magicians. 
We boys contrived to hint to him that for certain rea- 
sons these familiarities with the fruit were not entirely 
agreeable to us, and John was magnanimous enough 
to leave the banquet, alleging his preference for the 
indigenous fruit of the same species whose distilled 
virtues, he boasted, garnished the generous cellar of 
his host. 

When we employed John and his compeers, some 
oversight was necessary to keep them to their tasks. 
They delighted to beguile their toil with narrative of 
fact and fiction which they represented as having once 
occurred in the vicinity ; and they sought often to 
pause and lean upon their hoe, or other implement, the 
better to point out the locus in quo, or lend to their 
descriptions the animation of gesture. But Arthur 
was not to be circumvented in this way. Like an 
efficient speaker or moderator, he continually brought 
them back to the matter immediately under discussion, 
namely, the row they were hoeing, or whatever work 
was in hand. 

One of our day-laborers brought with him a large 
mastiff, of whose pugnacious exploits he bragged till 
Arthur grew weary of the theme, and asserted that 
he could vanquish the dog himself. The man, with 
wounded vanity, declared he would like to set the dog 
on and try it. Arthur would not recedi; from what he 
had said, and the result was the dog was set on, and 
rushed, with bristled hair and tail erect and bare fangs, 



44 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

to the encounter. For about five minutes Arthur plied 
his boots with rapidity and vigor against the dog's 
chest and chaps, occasionally bringing the canine jaws 
together with the tongue unpleasantly sandwiched be- 
tween them, till the dog ingloriously lowered his cau- 
dal flag, and, despite the invective of his master, 
turned back from the proceeding with a bugle-note far 
different from the trumpet-bark which sounded the 
charge. 

Interspersed with farm toil was the relief of rainy 
days and our rare public holidays. One of the latter 
was the old Election-day, on the last Wednesday of 
May ; at which date it was the rule among farmers, 
to have the planting completed. This was a sad day 
for the bii'ds, whose exulting spring melodies were 
wont to be cruelly interrupted, and their nestlings 
bereaved by the sports of the hunter. The law now 
has not only transferred the election day to another 
season, but shields with its broad segis the little birds' 
nests, protecting their domestic joys from the ruthless 
sportsman. Arthur and Richard, we believe, only 
once assumed a musket, in the Election-day hunting ; 
and we do not know that Arthur, on any other occa- 
sion, discharged fire-arms till the battle of Fredericks- 
burg. Their father kept a brace of pistols in the house ; 
but he always cautioned the children against them: 
and his warning had the more effect from the powder 
explosion by which, as we have naiTated, Arthur and 
Richard were injured in Cambridge, and from an 
incident which occurred on one occasion, when he ex- 
hibited the pistols and the manner of firing them to 
gratify the curiosity of the family at the fireside. We 



YOUTH. 45 

have a lively recollection of that occasion. " Now, 
children," said he, "I know perfectly well that these 
pistols are not loaded ; yet, in showing you the opera- 
tion of the lock, I shall not point the pistol at the 
head of some one, as a boy might do, for bravado. 
For instance, I shall not point it at your sister Mar- 
garet." With this remai'k, he directed the weapon 
to the wall, near the floor, and drew the trigger. 
Great was our consternation when the pistol exploded, 
and discharged a bullet through the wall into the cel- 
lar. This unlooked-for result was explained after- 
ward, when it was ascertained that some one had 
been practising with the pistols, and inadvertently left 
them loaded. 

On the Election-day referred to, Arthur and Rich- 
ard sallied forth to the hunt, musket on shoulder. 
The first bobolink they. levelled at was considerably 
agitated, broke off his jubilant strain, and took his 
flight, the boys claiming that they had drawn blood. 
Several other birds, after the discharge of their pieces, 
paid to their sportsmanship the compliment of retir- 
ing to a distance. But, after a while, the bobohnks 
seemed to get an inkling of the true nature of the 
case, and to shake their sides and wings, convulsed 
with songs of derisive merriment. After several 
hours, the boys returned home, without a smgle 
feather as a trophy ; and they did not try the gunner's 
sport again. They were more successful in angling, 
on the banks of Nashua River, or floating in boats upon 
the mirror-depths of Martin's Pond. 

After haying was finished, the farmers usually in- 
dulged themselves in a day's pastime, spent in a fishing 



46 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

excursion. The men employed to help in haying, 
the season Arthur -and Richard carried on the farm, 
made a great point of this day of sport ; and the boys 
accompanied them on the occasion. They procured 
some spirituous liquors ; and, after themselves imbib- 
ing, strove hard, by ridicule and persuasion, to induce 
the boys to partake. Arthur was firm in his resist- 
ance, but Richard was prevailed upon, in spite of 
Arthur's entreaty, and warning that he should let his 
mother know of the affair. On retirincr that niojht, 
the mother visited Richard's bedside, and administered 
to him a solemn reproof, which he never forgot. 
This was Arthur's first step in the temperance cause, 
in which he afterwards faithfully labored. 

In the Groton experience, Arthur's education was 
by no means neglected. The mother and sister re- 
garded the grand pui'pose of preparing him for the 
arena of life as far transcending the convenience and 
expediency of the hour ; and nothing would have 
tempted them to sacrifice his welfare to the family 
needs. It was very justly believed, coijformably to 
the father's views and plans, that the hardships of 
farm labor might form a very valuable part of educa- 
tional training ; while the complemental part of mental 
discipline Margaret heroically assumed. Her inile 
was to study, in the summer, the out-door literature, 
traced in the expressive characters of nature, with its 
" books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and 
good in everything " : while in the winter she ap- 
plied herself to human lore. This was her regime^ 
also, with the boys. As soon as the farm harvests 
were garnered, the seed-time of in-door teaching com 



YOUTH. 47 

menced ; aiul for several lioiirs u day she presided 
over the family school. This Avas a very great sac- 
rifice to her. Her own mind was am]>ly stored, 
and she longed now to create, in emulation of those 
masters who had won the laurels of literature. To 
teach children, scarcely in their teens, was as much 
below her bent as for Apollo to tend the flocks of 
Admetus. Nor could she, like him, beguile the oc- 
cupation with the lyre. Her fiither's death, the aban- 
donment of her plan of European travel, and the new 
weight of uncongenial family cares had depressed 
her, and her harp hung for a time tuneless upon the 
willows. 

As a teacher few have excelled her. Not merely 
did she faithfully train to good habits of mental ap- 
plication ; not merely did she store the mind with the 
treasures of learning ; but she constantly sought to 
kindle and stinuilate noble aspiration. When in their 
studies they came upon the feats of Roman, Greek, or 
modern patriotic devotion, she would expatiate upon 
tliem with gjowing eloquence. Little did they expect, 
wlien tluy thus learned and admired the devotion of 
Curtius or Sc;i?vola, or the modern Swiss who broke 
the assailing phalanx by gathering with the embi-ace 
of his extended arms a sheaf of pointed spears into 
Ills own bosom, that their own times would add ne\r 
narratives to the legends of glory ; that the Italian 
War and the American Rebellion would furnish many 
instances of devoted heroism, unsurpassed by the 
bright pages of history ; and that in these scenes the 
aspiring teacher, Margaret, and the ardent pupil, 
Arthur, would participate. 



48 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

No doubt her personal influence on Arthur was 
more important than what she could impart to him 
in those early years. A noble spirit is catching ; and 
Arthur was quite capable of being lighted with her 
enthusiasm. She herself remarked this, express- 
ing the opinion that in his mind he resembled her 
more than the other children. The formative in- 
fluence she hoped to have on the boys and upon her 
sister Ellen, who composed the trio of her family 
school, she regarded as much more important than 
the rudiments of learning, which she would have 
willingly committed to another teacher, and which it 
much tasked her patience to communicate. Her own 
great quickness and astonishing rapidity in the ac- 
quisition of knowledge led her to expect the same 
in her pupils ; and tardiness on their part was very 
trying to her. The little awkward ways which some- 
times fasten on childi-en annoyed her inexpressibly. 
Among these may be mentioned a habit the boys 
fell into of incessant movement of the hands, as if 
catching at succor in the recitations, when they were 
drowning in the deep places of Virgil. It seemed 
absolutely impossible for them to think of the hand 
and keep it still, while agonized with classic diffi- 
culties and trembling in dread of the doom of a bad 
recitation. Sometimes their bright answers in ge- 
ography or history made her laugh outright. She 
preferred to laugh rather than weep, which was her 
only alternative. Some of these bright responses she 
recorded at the end of the geography in ^erpetuam 
memoriam. We have in mind a passage, which may 
still be seen by -any one who can obtain access to that 



YOUTH. 49 

text-book, — " Richard, being asked where Turkey in 
Asia was, replied that it was in Europe ! " 

Li a subsequent letter to Arthur, while he was 
absent, completing his college preparation, Margaret 
thus refers to her family school : — 

" You express gratitude for what I have taught 
you. It is in your power to repay me a hundred- 
fold by making every exertion now to improve. I 
did not teach you as I would ; yet I think the con- 
finement, and the care I then took of you children, 
at a time when my mind was so excited by many 
painful feelings, have had a very bad effect upon my 
health. I do not say this to pain you, or to make 
you more grateful to me; for, had I been aware 
at the time what I was doing, I might not have 
sacrificed myself so ; but I say it, that you may feel 
it your duty to fill my place, and do what I may never 
be permitted to do. Three precious years at the best 
period of my fife I gave all my best hours to you 
children ; let me not, then, see you idle away time, 
which I have always valued so much ; let me not find 
you unworthy of the love I felt for you. Those three 
years would have enabled me to make great attain- 
ments, which now I never may. Do you make 
them in my stead, that I may not remember that 
time with sadness. I hope you are fully aware of the 
great importance of your time this year. Your con- 
duct now will decide your fate. You are now fifteen ; 
and if, at the end of the year, we have not reason 
to be satifised that you have a decided taste for study, 
and ambition to make a figure in one of the profes- 
sions, you will be consigned to some other walk in life. 

3 D 



50 CHAPLAIN FULLl.R. 

For you are aware that there is no money to be 
wasted on any of us ; though if I hve and thrive, 
and you deserve my sympathy, you shall not want 
means and teaching to follow out any honorable path. 
With your sister Ellen's improvement and desire to 
do right, and perseverance in overcoming obstacles, 

I am well satisfied May God bless you, and 

make this coming year a prelude to many honorable 
years ! 

" Next time I write, I will not fill my whole sheet 
with advice. Advice too often does little good ; but 
I will not believe I shall speak in vain to my dear 
Arthur." 

Early in the year 1839 a purchaser was obtained 
for the Groton place ; and the family willingly bade 
adieu to the scene of their first great calamity, and 
many consequent hardships and trials. The step was 
the more advisable, because Arthur and Richard had 
arrived at years which called for a more exclusive 
application to study than the cares of the fai'm ad- 
mitted of. 

Margaret, in a letter to her brother, thus dwells 
upon the Groton trials : — 

" You were too young to feel how trying are the 
disorders of a house which has lost its head; the 
miserable perplexities of our affairs; and what your 
mother suffered from her loneliness and sense of imfit- 
ness for her new and hea^^y burden of care. It will 
be many years yet before you can appreciate the 
conflicts of my mind, as I doubted whether to give up 
all which my heart desired, to enter a path for which 
I had no skill and . no call, except that some one must 



YOUTH. 51 

ti'ead it, and none else was ready. The Peterborough 
hills and the "VVachusett are associated in my mind 
with many hours of anguish, as great, I think, as I am 
capable of feeling. I used to look at them, towering 
to the sky, conscious that I, too, from my birth had 
longed to rise ; but I felt crushed to earth. Yet 
again, a noble spirit said that could never be. The 
good knight may come forth scarred and maimed 
fi'om the unequal contest, shorn of his strength and 
unsightly to the careless eye ; but the same fire burns 
within, and deeper than ever. He may be conquered, 
but never subdued, 

'' Yet if these beautiful hills and wide, rich fields 
saw this sad lore well learned, they also witnessed 
some precious lessons given, too, — of faith, of forti- 
tude, of self-command, and of less selfish love. There, 
too, in solitude, heart and mind acquired more power 
of concentration, and discerned the beauty of a stricter 
method. There the heart was awakened to sympathize 
with the ignorant, to pity the vulgar, and to hope for 
the seemingly worthless ; for a need was felt to attain 
the only reality, — the divine soul of this visible crea- 
tion, — which cannot err and will not sleep, which can- 
not permit evil to be permanent, or the aim of beauty 
to be eventually frustrated, in the smallest particular. 

Ought I not to add, that my younger brothers, 

too, laid there the foundations of more robust, enter- 
prising, and at the same time self-denying charac- 
ter ? " 

After some months' study at a private school, taught 
by Mrs. Sarah Ripley, in Waltham, Massachusetts, 
Arthur entered Harvard University. He passed the 



52 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

four years of college life happily and profitably, and 
graduated with an honorable part in 1843. Among 
Ills classmates were Rev. Dr. Hill, now President of 
the University, Judge Richardson, before mentioned, 
Rev. Frederick N. Knapp, of Washington, now en- 
gaged in the labors of the Sanitary Commission, and 
others who have become w^ell known. During the 
first year he maintained a position at or near the head 
of the class, but his health gi^'ing way, he was obliged 
to relax his efforts. 

While in colleo^e the concerns of relioion were not 
forgotten in the pleasures of the Castalian spring. 
His serious impressions ripened into church-member- 
ship, and he united with the church of the University. 
In attendance upon the round of college duties he was 
regular. In associating with his fellow^s he guarded 
against exciting the ill-^vill of that portion who did not 
propose to themselves a serious aim in college pursuits, 
yet he was careful not to suffer his time to be frittered 
away. He lays doTNTi, for one about to enter college, 
the following rules to regulate his conduct, before he 
has learned the character of his companions : "I ad- 
vise you on no account to miss a single prayer or reci- 
tation ; but do not boast of it, or those who have 
missed a great many will dislike you. Be sociable and 
agreeable when any one calls on you ; but do not 
yoiu'self call much on others." 

During his college course, to eke out his finances, 
he taught a district school in Westford and in Dux- 
bury, Massachusetts. His love for children rendered 
teaching for him a pleasant and successful task. He 
engaged in the work animated by the same enthusiasm 



YOUTH. 53 

which characterized him in every pursuit of his life. 
Imagination, hope, and a buoyant temper cast a rose- 
ate coloring over all. In a letter from Westford, he 
declares that the children in his school are " very in- 
telhgent and pretty, every one." He did not fail to 
please, in his turn, those who were so agreeable to 
him, and to obtain access also to the regard of the 
parents through the sure way of the children's hearts. 

He was no less successful in Duxbury, where, we 
are happy to learn, his labors have not been forgotten. 
From Duxbury he writes, " I have thirty-nine schol- 
ars, all good ones, all love me. I am so fortunate, 
also, as to please the parents, and, in fact, was never 
happier in my life. I have a great deal to do, how- 
ever, besides the regular school labors, in teaching 
evening schools, visiting the parents, and studying my- 
self in order to instruct them well." And again he 
writes : "I have been invited to several balls and 
parties. The former I never go to, and the latter 
always." Shortly before he closed his school, a meet- 
ing of the district was holden, which passed the fol- 
lowing preamble and resolutions. 

" Whereas, Mr. A. B. Fuller, our accomplished and 
much-esteemed instructor, is about to close his school 
in this place, and we feel desirous of expressing our 
warm approbation of his course while with us, and our 
sincere gratitude for his earnest and faithful labors; 
therefore, 

'•'-Resolved^ That the thanks of this meeting be ten- 
dered to Mr. Fuller, for his able and successful exer- 
tions in imparting that knowledge to our children 
which the world can never take away. 



64 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

''^Resolved,) That we approve of the methods which 
Mr. Fuller has taken to instruct the pupils consigned 
to his charge ; that we believe his influence has been 
of the most beneficial tendency, in preserving uncor- 
rupted the characters and hearts of our children ; that 
both his precept and example, while with -us, have 
tended to inculcate and sustain a sound, elevated mo- 
rality." 

From reminiscences of our district-school teacher, 
kindly furnished us by one of his former pupils, we 
make the following extract. 

" We boys were sometimes invited to spend the 
evening at his rooms, and then we enjoyed ourselves 
heartily. He entertained us with stories, anecdotes 
of history and philosophy, and a sight at the ' Mas- 
ter's' literary treasures, such as seals, colored wax, 
transparent wafers, and other knick-knacks, which 
seemed to our admiring eyes like Oriental treasures. 
The literary entertainment was followed up by a feast 
of nuts, apples, and oranges, very congenial to our boy- 
ish appetites. These favors made us look up to and 
love the teacher, endearing to us, too, the master's 
room in the old red cottage on the hill ; and many a 
well-recited lesson, I ween, has been the result of 
those happily spent evenings. 

" He introduced evening schools into our district, 
made interesting by spelling-matches, debates, and 
lessons he gave us in reading. At one of these even- 
ing schools we were much annoyed by a crowd of 
. vandal boys, with adult forms, but undeveloped brains, 
from a neighboring district, who boasted that they had 
put down the evening spelling-school in their own dis- 



YOUTH. 55 

trict, and were bound to stop ours. They assailed 
us with various hideous noises at the windows, and 
even with pebbles. Oui* master of a sudden donned 
his hat, and with but two strides, as it seemed to us, 
sallied from the school-house and pounced upon the 
ringleader, a lad as tall and nearly as heavy as himself, 
seizing him by the collar, to the boy's surprise and the 
confusion of his comrades, and shaking him nearly out 
of his boots. He then required his comrades, who 
to the number of six or eight were gathered romid 
their chapfallen leader, to give him all their names, 
and thoroughly disnlayed the whole set, who never 
troubled us more." 

Arthur's school-teaching drew from his sister Mar- 
garet, who was never lavish of commendation, the fol- 
lowing terms of approbation, in a letter to him : "I 
am satisfied that your success, and the tact and energy, 
by which you have attained it, are extraordinary. I 
think of you with great pleasure, and am only anxious 
about your health." 

In a letter, some months previous, she imparts to 
Arthur her views of the methods of teaching : a sub- 
ject which she had carefully considered, in connec- 
tion with her practical experience ; as many gifted 
minds have done, especially in classic times ; and as 
all cultivated minds should do, having no right to 
shut up in themselves the treasures of learning and 
thought. 

"About your school," she says, "I do not think 
I can give you much advice which would be of value, 
unless I could know your position more in detail. 
The most important rule is, in all our relations ^vith 



56 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

our fellow-creatures, never to forget that, if they are 
imperfect persons, they are still immortal souls, and 
treat them as you would wish to be treated, in the 
light of that thought. 

" As to the application of means, — ' abstain from 
punishment as much as possible, and use encourage- 
,ment as far as you can, without fi alter y.'' But be even 
more careful as to strict truth in this regard towards 
children than to persons of your own age. For to 
the child the parent or teacher is the representative 
of justice ; and as the school of life is severe, an edu- 
cation which in any degree excites vanity is the very 
worst preparation for that general and crowded school. 

" I doubt not you will teach grammar well ; as I 
saw you aimed at principles in your practice. In 
geography, try to make pictures of the scenes, that 
they may be present to their imaginations, and the 
nobler faculties be brought into action as well as 
memory. 

" In history, try to study and paint the characters 
of great men : they best interpret the leadings of 
events amid the nations. 

" I am pleased with your way of speaking of both 
people and pupils. Your view seems from the right 
point; yet beware of over-great pleasure in being 
popular or even beloved." 




CHAPTER IV. 



BELVIDERE, OR THE MISSIONARY. 



" These are the gardens of the desert, these 
The unshorn fields, boundless and beautiful, 
And fresh as the young earth ere man had sinned, — 
The prairies." 

Bryant. 
" In the morning sow thy seed." 

" He that watereth shall be watered also himself." 




N graduating, in 1843, Arthur Fuller com- 
menced that career of enthusiastic and tire- 
less pubhc activity, which was never inter- 
mitted except by the tribute of sleep he 
grudgingly paid to the night, and the occasional pro- 
tests of overtasked nature in the transient form of 
illness, till he rested forever from his labors on the 
battle-field of Fredericksburg. The ink of his college 
diploma was scarcely dry, when he started for the 
prairies of the West, on a mission of teaching and 
preaching. He embarked not only his whole soul, but 
his whole fortune in this enterprise ; investing the 
several hundred dollars still remaining of his patrimony 
in the purchase of an academy in Belvidere, Illinois. 
He attached himself to this institution, as he did to 
the pastorate of several churches afterward, at the 
nadir of fortune's wheel, sure that it could go no lower, 
and hoping to give an upward impulse. 

3* 



58 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

The academy at Belvidere had been discontinued, 
and was now re-opened. It was an expired hght, in 
a locaUty where its lamp, well trimmed and burning, 
might radiate afar, without a rival, over a new, broad, 
and interesting field, as a much-needed beacon of 
knowledge and influence. We always thought the 
principal who now started the Belvidere academy 
into new life was admirably calculated for the West- 
ern field, by reason of the animated, almost fever- 
ish impetus of acti\'ity, which would not let him rest, 
and which was in harmony with the rush and onward 
sweep of Western life. Here, too, his delight in na- 
ture could be amply gratified, as he rode over the 
level or rolling prairie, with its beautiful flowers 
nodding among tlie verdure, its occasional park, and 
its broad horizon, regaled by the melodious song- 
ster, the long-di'awn strain of the turtle-dove, the 
clouds of pigeons, like the arrows of Persia, darkening 
the sun, and made romantic, too, and even dangerous, 
by the prowling packs of rapacious wolves. Such were 
the Illinois praiiies in 1843. Belvidere, the shire 
town of Boone County, already numbered nearly a 
thousand inhabitants, and every day swelled its census. 
The town is located on the eastern head-waters of the 
Rock River, in a region of unsurpassed natural beauty. 

Margaret, in 1843, thus depicts scenes of Rock 
River : " It is only five years since the poor Indians 
have been dispossessed of this region of sumptuous 
loveliness, such as can hardly be paralleled in this 
world. No wonder they poured out their blood freely 
before they would go. On one of the river islands 
may still be found the ' caches ' for secreting pro- 



BELVIDERE, OR THE MISSIONARY. 59 

visions, the wooden troughs in which they pounded 
their corn, and the marks of theu' tomahawks upon 
felled trees. When the present owner first came, he 
found the body of an Indian woman, in a canoe, ele- 
vated on high poles, with all her ornaments on. This 
island is a spot where Nature seems to have exhausted 
her invention in crowding it with all kinds of growths, 
from the noblest trees down to the most delicate plants. 
It divides the river, which there sweeps along in a 
clear and glittering current, betwixt noble parks, 
richest green lawns, pictured rocks, crowned with old 
hemlocks, or smooth bluffs, three hundred feet high, 
the most beautiful of all. Two of these, the ' Eagle's 
Nest ' and the ' Deer's Walk,' still the habitual re- 
sort of the grand and beautiful creatures from which 
they are named, were the scene of some of the hap- 
piest hours of my life. I had no idea, from verbal 
description, of the beauty of these bluffs ; nor can I 
hope to give any to others. They tower so magnifi- 
cently, bathed in sunlight : they touch the heavens 
with so sharp and fair a line ! This is one of the finest 
parts of the river ; but it seems beautiful enough to 
fill any heart and eye all along its course ; and nowhere 
broken or injured by the hand of man." * 

On the twenty-sixth of September, 1843, Arthur 
started upon his Western mission, with a quick ear and 
eye for observation, and a thirst for information, which 
made the world an instructive book, from whose pages 
he who had gone forth to teach should himself be 
taught. Early in his journey, a scene in the railroad 
car furnished the first lesson. Arthur has himself re- 
corded it. 

* Margaret Fuller'B Unpublished Works, Vol. 11. p. 677. 



60 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

" A little boy of twelve years of age, poor and rag- 
ged, came into the car. There was a slight shrinking 
from him manifested by some of the well-dressed pas- 
sengers. He too]>: his seat quietly near me ; and a 
sea-captain, who entered at the same time, told me his 
touching story. I learned that he was a poor orphan, 
and, three days before^ had been wrecked. A vessel 
which had seen the accident sent forth its boat, to 
save from a watery grave any who might be rescued. 
They spied the httle boy, floating amid the waste of 
waters, and approached him ; but he, with a gen- 
erosity, alas ! too rare, cried out : ' Never mind me ! 
save the captain : he has a wife and six childi'en.' 
Poor fellow ! he knew that the captain had those who 
loved him and would need his support. The captain, 
in telling me the story, was much affected, and said, 
with a sympathy characteristic of the mariner, ' The 
boy has only the clothes you see, su' ; or he would not 
be so ragged. I care not so much for myself, though 
I too lost all ; but the poor lad will have a hard time 
of it.' Several persons, on hearing this story, gave 
small sums to the poor orphan ; and advised him to 
make a statement to other passengers, who would 
doubtless give something. ' I am not a beggar,' was 
his only answer ; ' I don't wdsh to beg their money.' 
At this moment, a fine, benevolent-looking individual 
arose in a seat near me, and unostentatiously offered 
to plead for him who would not prefer his own claim. 
Most successful was the warm-hearted appeal which 
he made to the passengers ; and ten dollars were col- 
lected. 

" The plain, practical, common-sense way in which 



BELVIDERE, OK THE MISSIONARY. 61 

this person manifested his sympathy for a fellow-being 
won my regard, and I entered into conversation with 
him. ' I 've been a sailor myself,' he said. ' The 
generous fellows ought .not to want, when misfortune, 
not vice, has rendered them destitute. I know this 
brave captain would share his last dollar with any 
one in distress.' 

" He sat down in the vacant seat next me ; and 
more and more was I pleased to find that his religion 
was no mere theory, no barren speculation, but an 
active principle. I asked his name. * Jonathan 
Walker,' was the reply ; and the branded hand full 
well attested the fact. Yes ! upon this man, so benev- 
olent, w-ith a heart so tender, had the friends of slavery 
wreaked their shameful vengeance ! " 

Borne on with the great tide of travel, he soon 
finds other objects to touch his heart. On board the 
steamer, he visits the steerage, and here his pity is 
stirred by a poor mother wath her ragged babe. In 
his diary, he says : " She pressed her infant, sick, cold, 
and hungry to her bosom, and gave it the best of her 
scanty shawl ; while her haggard look of despair told 
what she endured. God help the poor, and keep them 
from temptation ! Do they live in this sad, wretched, 
starving way, and we look on, and pity them not? 
How can I complain, because I have little, when they 
have naught ? Some of these poor creatures are sleep- 
ing now ; and can forget their cares, and can dream 
of food and happiness. Happy sleep ! Thrice happy 
the sleep of death, if they rest in Jesus ; for then they 
will go to their Father ! They go now to New York. 
How many temptations will assail them there ! and 



62 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

what have they to sustain them in the trying hour? 
Starving and naked, will they not sacrifice the httle 
they have l6arned of goodness and morality to keep 
the soul within the body ? Can we wonder, when we 
behold the wreck of womanhood, or the besotted being 
who seeks to drown care in the maddening bowl ? Is 
it strange to find that receptacle of vice and infamy, 
the ' Tombs,' crowded with inmates ? And yet 
many can look on with indifference or brutal con- 
tempt; some can laugh at their squalid misery!" 

Arrived at Belvidere, the teacher's labors began in 
earnest. Some sixty scholars gathered at the opening 
of his school, of various ages, numbering among them 
two or three young ministers of the Christian Connec- 
tion, who suspended preaching for the benefits of his 
instruction. He soon found plenty of good work to 
do, with an increasing number of pupils, but almost no 
money. There was everything else in the West ex- 
cept currency. That, even in the coin of Lycurgus, 
was minus. Parents were glad to have their children 
taught at the academy, if the prmcipal would take his 
pay in grain, wood, or even land. He was compelled 
to this course, and had to turn his commodities into 
money as he could, sending them to another market. 
All this he underwent, acting in the double capacity 
of teacher and merchant, with the hardihood of a 
pioneer. But this was by no means the sum of his 
employments, for he also did the work of an evan- 
gelist. 

He gives the following sketch of the field of his 
labors. 

*' The Western man who would be useful must be 



BELVIDERE, OR THE mSSIONARY. 63 

no mere theorist; he must employ every physical, 
moral, and mental power, or he will never succeed. 
An earnest laborer alone can claim or secure respect 
here ; none other can move the heart or influence for 
good. My own situation is one to be sought by a per- 
son who sincerely desires to benefit his fellow-men ; 
by one who is willing to devote his every energy to 
the cause of humanity. To such a one, a wide sphere 
of usefulness is offered, — none wider. Here he will 
find men thirsting for light and knowledge, and ready 
to learn ' what is truth.' He will indeed see much of 
ignorance, the inseparable though deplorable attendant 
upon all new settlements ; but he will find the people 
are longing for instruction, and sighing for those privi- 
leges which their Eastern brethren enjoy. An ear- 
nest, philanthropic man should seek such a situation ; 
but it is one to be feared by him who loves wealth or 
ease. Let him shun it, for here is no happiness for 
him. I daily feel how much more self-devotion I 
need, how much more of a spirit of prayer and conse- 
cration to the work. 

*' I knew long since the sacrifice I was making, and 
chose to relinquish ease and worldly promise in the 
hope of doing something for humanity. I love my 
work better and better. The more I contemplate the 
fields, white already for the harvest, the more I bless 
God that I am permitted to be one of the few humble 
reapers. I am resolved to struggle on, to bear up in 
a Christian spirit, and look to God for assistance and 
strength, knowing I 'shall reap if I faint not.' Be- 
sides, I am rewarded when I see so good a work going 
on. I have found here the sphere I have long sought, 



64 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

and am happy, yes Tiappy^ amid all the toil and priva- 
tion, — privation which you can never know till you 
visit us. 

" Our Christian brethren have well broken the 
ground, and cheerfully unite with us, heart and hand, 
in every good word and work. I have found among 
them true zeal and love, and have joined and often 
speak at their social conference meetings. Yesterday 
I communed with them, and never felt more like meet- 
ing the disciples at the table of our common Master. 
On Saturday last we had a fellowship meeting, as it is 
termed ; and truly it was a precious season. The 
writer spoke twice, and it would have been no easy 
task to remain silent. I have also, by request, at- 
tended and spoken at a Baptist social meeting, and 
was pleased with all I saw and heard." 

In a home letter he gives the following sketch of his 
religious labors : " I go every Sabbath about eleven 
miles, take charge of a Sabbath-school at ten, preach 
at eleven, have an intermission of half an hour at half 
past twelve, preach again a long sermon, take tea at 
once, and ride over the chill, bleak prairie, directly 
home, which I do not reach till late in the evening. 
On week days, besides the hours of teaching, I lecture 
and aid in debating-societies, and so forth, so that I 
can scarcely find time to write even these poor let- 
ters." 

He has given us an amusing account of a perform- 
ance in the debating-society of Belvidere. It was 
the discussion of the temperance question in the form 
of an indictment, returned against one Alcohol, charg- 
ing him, in various counts, with murder in the first 



BELVIDERE, OR THE MISSIONARY. 65 

degree, arson, robbery, larceny, subornation to perjury, 
street-walking, vagabondism, and all the other crimes. 
The principal of the academy acted as prosecuting 
officer. A lawyer was judge, twelve honest men were 
impanelled for a jury, and Alcohol retamed in his de- 
fence a wily advocate. The case for the government 
was strong. Abundant evidence was adduced to 
prove that Alcohol had been an accessary before the 
fact, and therefore, in the eye of the law, principal, in 
all the crimes charged ; nay, that he had been the 
prime instigator of the same. The government rested 
their case ; and now came the ingenious defence. A 
gentleman, on whose nose and other features Alcohol 
had placed the proprietary mark which is wont to dis- 
tinguish his retainers, came forward to be sworn for 
the defence. The government's attorney prayed the 
judgment of the court on the admissibility of the wit- 
ness, objecting that he was evidently under the influ- 
ence of the defendant, and not disinterested, and in 
fact that he furnished another instance of the very 
crime of subornation charged in the indictment. The 
defendant's counsel, with all the indignation of offended 
virtue, protested against the imputation of the govern- 
ment. The court decided not to take cognizance of 
the objection made to the witness so as to pass upon it 
judicially, but to allow the jury to consider it in con- 
nection with the weight of testimony. 

The witness was sworn ; and a keen deponent he 
proved to be. He testified, as an expert, that Alcohol 
did not have the effect upon his associates of stirring 
up the passions and depleting the pocket : thus en- 
countering with a general negative the specific posi- 



66 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

tive proof of the government. He was made the mark 
of a raking fire of cross-examination, which he very 
adroitly parried. 

" Do you pretend Alcohol has benefited you ? " 

" I do." 

" What has he done for you ? " 

" Made me happy." 

" But did not your pleasure soon turn into bitterness 
and pain ? " 

" Ah ! that was because my friend Alcohol left me. 
The moment I got him back again, I was happy once 
more." 

On this evidence the defendant's counsel founded 
a panegyric of Alcohol ; trying, by a sportive vein, 
to induce the jury to think lightly of the charges 
" trumped up," as he said, against his client. But the 
government's attorney effaced the impression of this 
plea by a pathetic picture of ruined famihes, weeping 
wives, and destitute children, society at large cor- 
rupted, and the individual temple of God in human- 
ity desecrated and turned over to the habitation of 
demons. The judge charged fairly, laying down the 
law with precision. The jury brought in a verdict of 
guilty ; on which a judgment was rendered agamst 
Alcohol, as a nefarious criminal ; and he was branded, 
in that community, as an outlaw. 

In his vacation, our missionary scorns the scholar's 
otium cum digiiitate^ and starts upon a missionary tour, 
which he thus describes : "I left Belvidere in an open 
wagon, upon my way to Geneva. I arrived, about 
eleven in the evening, after a fatiguing journey, and 
quite exhausted from the effects of the heat, from which 



BELVIDERE, OR THE MISSIONARY. 67 

the interminable and shadeless prairies afforded no pro- 
tection. The next day being the Sabbath, I preached 
both morning and afternoon, and enjoyed much pleas- 
ant converse with our friends in regard to the state 
and condition of the religious society. The following 
Monday, Brother Conant and myself rode to Ottawa ; 
and thence, taking a boat, -we proceeded, amid most 
lovely scenery, to St. Louis. The high, frowning 
bluffs, the majestic rocks, and ever and anon the smil- 
ing prairie, afforded a scene of never-ending pleasure." 
Thence he w^ent to Quincy, where he preached, and 
fi'om there, " We next proceeded to Warsaw, where 
three days were passed. Brother Conant and myself 
each preached upon a week-day evening. The people, 
however, were too much engrossed with Mormon 
troubles to make us deem it advisable to remain over 

the Sabbath From Warsaw we went to Nauvoo, 

and passed ten days at the Nauvoo Mansion, kept by 
Mrs. Smith, the wife of Joseph Smith, the founder of 
Mormonism. I certainly never heard such an amount 
of the novel and absurd as was uttered during those 
ten days. Still, while I believe the leaders to be vicious 
deceivers, I found many sincere and worthy people in 
the place ; and nowhere have I received more polite 
attention. I saw and conversed with a larfje number 
of their elders and chief men, and became more and 
more amazed that any could believe their absurdities. 
The erection of the temple at Nauvoo continues with- 
out cessation ; and unwearied are their efforts to com- 
plete the structure. How much is it to be regretted, 
that so much zeal and effort cannot be expended in a 
better cause ! Many give nearly their all ; and those 



68 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

having naught else give the labor of their hands for 
the erection of this temple of delusion ; while, among 
us, those who hold a rational and liberal faith ofttimes 
refuse a pittance for the extension of truth, or give 
but gmdgingly a mite from their abundance." 

Having reached home, he says : "I look upon this 
journey with satisfaction and pleasure, as not having 

been wliolly in vain We have distributed those 

silent but persuasive preachers, our tracts, at many 
places where the boat stopped but for a few minutes ; 
and have sown the good seed broadcast, in the hope 
that much of it will take root in good and honest 
hearts." 

On another occasion, he speaks more particularly of 
his tract distribution : " Often a tract was left when 
the boat touched for but a few minutes to take in a 
fresh supply of w^ood, where only a solitary log-cabin 
could be seen for many a weary mile. The inmates 
w^ould hail these few pages with delight, as promising 
to beguile their lonely hours, or as furnishing food for 
thought upon the day of rest. Sometimes not a book 
could be found in the cabin, and a tract thus given 
would supply the only ' reading material ' to a poor 
but intelligent family. I wished very much that I had 
a few good books to place wdiere they w^ould have 

been so faithfrilly used Long before I reached 

home, the stock of tracts we had taken was exhausted, 
and several opportunities to benefit others were un- 
avoidably lost. 

" We sometimes hear persons declare, how much 
they wish they could preach. To such I would say, 
Your wish can be gratified. Tal^e with you some 



BELVIDERE, OR THE MISSIONARY. 69 

tracts, and freely give to those who will, through curi- 
osity, as freely receive. Do this, not officiously, but 
from a desire to do good, and fear not but that it will 
be accomplished. Often a light is thus shed beneath 
the hum^ble roof of the Western pioneer which dif- 
frises joy where before was gloom. All, both men 
and women, may thus become missionaries, and eternity 

only can reveal how effectual is such preaching 

But against one mistake we wish to guard. We desire 
no mere trash. A worthless book is worthless the 
world over, and here would be doubly pernicious. A 
good book, however old, is a good book still, and will 
be profitably and gratefully read." 

It may be well, in this connection, to cite what he 
says of the importance of the Western field ; for the 
state of things to which his words were applicable 
twenty years ago still exists, and will long continue, 
though farther removed toward the setting sun. "We 
cannot disguise the fact, if we would, that the West, 
now rapidly becoming peopled with an untrammelled, 
bold class of men, will at no distant period have the 
predominating influence in the councils of om' nation. 
If we refuse to impart to them, by our missionaries and 
publications, that light which cheers our own hearts, 
if we hold back our hands, which contain the antidote 
to the impoisoned draught of infidelity, then shall we 
be responsible for the anarchy which shall ultimately 
prevail. No one need fear that Western communities 
ai'e not capable of appreciating the efforts of learned 
and intelligent missionaries, or of reading with interest 
and profit the various newspapers, books, and tracts. 
I can bear wilhng testimony to the intelligence of 



70 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

those whom it was my privilege to address in different 
portions of the West." 

On another vacation missionary excursion, he raises 
the banner of Christ in a log-cabin. He thus refers 
to this occasion : " Here, in this humble log-cabin, 
were gathered men anxious to hear of Christ, and 
learn the way of salvation. I preached, and seldom 
have been more moved than when gazing upon the 
eager countenances of my auditors. At the East, we 
call a sermon one hour or more in length wearisome ; 
but here, w^here few * religious opportunities are en- 
joyed, a shorter discourse would leave the audience 
unsatisfied. I have, too, found it better to throw aside 
all notes when speaking ; the tastes, habits, and per- 
haps prejudices, of the people demand it. 

" After the sermon, according to custom, I invited 
a fi'ce expression of feeling and of interest in the cause 
of Christ. Elder Walworth spoke with much earnest- 
ness, and the Methodist class-leader testified to the 
value of such meetings, and the worth of the soul. 
That log-cabin, and the feelings there expressed, will 
be lono" remembered." 

The young missionary by no means restricted his 
labors to his denomination. He commenced his ca- 
reer with ardent longing for Christian union, and a 
love for all the branches of the True Vine, which 
ever animated him, till the last beat of his heart. 
Rev. Mr. Conant writes of him : " Mr. Fuller is in- 
vited to addi'ess the Sunday schools, to participate in 
the social meetings, to lecture, and even to preach 
to the Orthodox societies. He lately received a re- 
quest from some of the Presbyterian Society of Crystal 



BELVIDERE, OR THE MISSIONARY. 71 

Lake to preach to them. I mention these things as 
incidents illustrative of what I have said of the con- 
fidence and respect which he has secured. He attends 
to all these calls, as far as time and strength and his 
other duties will permit, — preaching, lecturing, and 
talking to the people." 

To the Methodists he always felt nearly related. In 
a letter from Belvidere he says : " A few Sabbaths 
since, after teaching a Sabbath school, which I had 
collected in a settlement about nine miles from this 
place, and preaching twice, I attended a Methodist 
meeting about half a mile distant. We sat quietly 
some time, waiting the arrival of their clergyman. 
Time passed swiftly, yet he came .not; and I was 
strongly solicited by the class-leader and his brethren 
to officiate in the place of him they had expected. At 
first the request was declined, on account of a feeling 
of fatigue, but upon being renewed it was complied 
with, from a fear that a further refusal might be mis- 
interpreted. I preached, and am sure that at least 
my own heart was benefited." 

The academy, meanwhile, had nearly doubled the 
roll of its members, and was enjoying a high pros- 
perity. But the zeal of the young preacher and 
teacher was burning out too rapidly the fiiel of life. 
The flesh beo;an to show itself too weak for the willing 
spirit. This he hints at in the following letter, which, 
while it furnishes a slight sketch of his labors, breathes 
something of that heart's desire for Israel which in- 
spired his efforts. 

"You wish," he says, "to know of my labors; 
and I will briefly inform you. Teaching in the acad- 



72 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

emy, and having the whole oversight of its three de- 
partments, and attending to all the business inseparable 
from an institution Hke mine, sufficiently occupy my 
week-day hours. Ui^on each Saturday I start for some 
destitute settlement, and lecture during the evening, 
and preach thrice upon the Sabbath. In one place I 
have a large Sabbath school, which I visit once in 
three weeks. The scholars are from families of vari- 
ous denominations, and have no books nor any teacher 
save myself. In the evening I usually ride home, in 
order not to be late at school the next morning. My 
health is wretched ; and may drive me from this wide 
and promising field. Still there is too much to be 
done for me to -feel that I have a moral right to re- 
main unemployed ; the harvest is too plenteous, and 
the laborers too few. 

" It is not until recently that I have felt it my duty 
to preach thus regulai^ly ; but the people in this region 
are now fairly awakened, and would ' know of the doc- 
trine.' It matters not how the storms rage over these 
cold, bari'en, and bleak prairies, crowded audiences 
listen eagerly. O, why will our clergy leave this noble 
West unaided by their counsels ? Why will not more 
of our strong men do battle here in the cause of truth 
and Christianity ? Our missionaries are obliged to 
ford rivers, face the rude winds, and preach in log- 
cabins or barns, wherever their voices may be heard ; 
yet we feel that the cause of truth is onward, and 
many are coming to a saving knowledge of religion. 
I have generally preached in destitute settle- 
ments, where otherwise the living voice would sel- 
dom tell, upon the Sabbath, of life's responsibilities 
and duties. 



BELVIDEKE, OR TIIK MISSIONARY. 73 

" Such is my present employment. I deeply feel a 
desire to obtain a more thorough theological education ; 
and, should I leave Belvidere in the spring, it will be 
with that intent, and on account of ill-health. My 
public speaking is wholly extemporaneous, and my 
week-day labors preclude the possibility of its being 
otherwise." 

But he now felt compelled to leave this fruitful 
Western field ; not merely by the warnings of his 
overtasked health, but by his desire to lay a more 
solid foundation for usefulness in a profession whose 
enlarged sphere of action, and constant demand for 
new treasures from the storehouse of thought, his 
experience led him daily more highly to appreciate. 
Yet he yearns toward the field he must leave, and 
lono;s to have a fit successor. " In order that he 
may truly succeed," he says, "let him be an earnest, 
prayerful man, a laborer in the vineyard ; not one who 
comes simply to contemplate beautiful scenery, or to 
benefit his health, though both may be done. He 
should be so filled with the importance of his mission, 
that he could speak from the overflowing heart, with- 
out being always fettered by written sermons ; willing, 
too, to preach dui'ing the week occasionally, where he 
found inquiring spirits ; and above all one who scorns 
not the humble log school-house, so that he may bene- 
fit immortal souls." 

The labors of our young missionary were valued 
highly by his coworkers in the blessed cause. One 
of the elders of the Christian Connection writes thus : 
" Brother Roberts accompanied me to Belvidere, and 
we called on Elder John Walworth, who- resides in 



74 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

the place. Here seven ministers providentially sat 
down together, — Elders Walworth, Roberts, Stick- 
nej, Thomas, and Barr, of the Christian Connection ; 
and Brothers Conant and Fuller, Unitarian. How 
delightful the interview ! It was good and pleasant ; 
for all were of one heart, united by bonds stronger 
than death. Belvidere is a beautiful place, and an 
interesting point. It is a county seat, settled by an 
intelhgent, enterprising class of inhabitants. Brother 
Walworth travels extensively, and his labors are abun- 
dant through the wide circle of his travels. But his 
field was too large, and the coming of other ministers 
has afforded timely aid. We have a first-rate academy 
at Belvidere." 

Again Elder Oliver Barr writes : " Belvidere is a 
place of much interest. There is a flourishing acad- 
emy here, under the supervision of Professor Fuller, a 
young man of splendid talents, fine accomplishments, 
and eminently qualified as a teacher. Professor Fuller 
is a clergyman of the Unitarian order, but a humble, 
ardent Christian, and zealously devoted to the advance- 
ment of spiritual Christianity, — strongly sympathizing 
with the Christians, and wishing to see our interests 
and efforts identical in the West." 

Rev. Augustus H. Conant writes : '' Brother A. B. 
Fuller, Principal of the Belvidere Academy, is exert- 
ing a quiet, but deep and strong and constantly widening 
influence." 

Elder John Walworth thus expresses his regret at 
the departure of the missionary teacher : '' We regret 
that we are compelled to relinquish our claims upon 
the successful labors of Brother A. B. Fuller, Princi- 



BELVIDERE, OR THF MISSIONARY. 75 

pal of the Academy, on account of lils ill-health. The 
confinement and arduous labors of the school-room 
were fast undermining a constitution which was not 
naturally strong, nor fitted to endure such constant 
application. He has found it necessary, in order to 
regain his health, and if possible his constitution, to 
return to the East, in hopes that comparative rehef 
from so much labor and care will in some measure, if 
not entirely, restore his health. Mr. Fuller felt desi- 
rous to sell the Academy to friendly persons; which 
he did, by sacrificing considerably in order to con- 
tinue it in the hands of our friends He has 

acquitted himself honorably as the principal in this 
institution, as an accomplished and competent teacher. 
He leaves the school deeply regretted by the students 
and their parents and friends, who will long affection- 
ately remember his unwearied exertions to benefit his 
pupils. He leaves many friends here who ardently 
wish him health and prosperity, and who hope, should 
his life be spared to enter another field of labor, that 
extended usefulness and success may continue to at- 
tend him." 

We have in the welcome extended to the zealous 
labors of our young missionary by other denominations 
a pleasing proof of the cardinal oneness of Christian 
faith. And is there anything more satisfactory than 
to see the standard-bearers of Christ, his representa- 
tives upon the earth, complying with his touching 
prayer, — " that they may be one " ? They will be 
one in heaven ; and can they refuse to be one on 
earth ? It was at the prompting of this union spirit 
that " Brother Fuller " (such is the record of Elder 



76 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

Barr) " offered himself as an associated member with 
us, to aid in the great work in which we are engaged. 
We received him as a Unitarian minister, yet a brother 
beloved, faitliful, devoted, zealous, and commended 
liim as a member of this conference. If this be ' a 
paradox,' be it so. I would to heaven there were 
more of that catholic, fraternizing spirit among Chris- 
tians generally ! Subsequently to this. Brother Ful- 
ler's impaired health required him to leave his flourish- 
ing school in Belvidere." 

Thus we have given a brief statement of a Western 
experience of two years ; and we think those two 
fleeting years form as bright pages as any in this 
biography. We believe God accepted the devotion of 
the young, zealous heart, like the grateful offering of 
Abel's sacrifice. And the reaper received wages. 



CHAPTER V. 

DIVINITY SCHOOL. 

" The proper study of mankind is man." 




N his return from the West, in 1845, Ar- 
thur Fuller entered the Cambridge Divinity 
School one year in advance ; having already, 
amidst his active duties, gone through with 
the first year's studies of that institution. Thus, in 
what Choate describes as " fitful, fragmentary leis- 
ure," he had laid up half the allowance of a student 
in theology, while performing the double function of 
teacher and preacher. More than the other half he 
had learned from the book of nature and man. He 
had stored his mind with grand images from the vast 
level or billowy roll of the prairie ; he had entered 
heart and soul into the onward rush of Western life, 
and had thus obtained a momentum of activity, an 
energy of enterprise, which continued to impel him 
through life. He had acquired a copious, flexible, 
extempore utterance, a power of suiting his thought to 
the audience, an aptitude in moulding to his purpose 
the lessons of passing events. A Western audience, 
in those days, was held by no conventionality, and 
would go out at any point of the speaker's address, 



78 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

when his attraction ceased. He must interest, or have 
no hearers, and when he ceased to interest he had 
immediate notice of it by a vanishing audience. Thus 
the student gained an admirable discipline in the school 
of human nature, and learned to " catch men." 

In the classic shades of Cambridge our student now 
devoted himself to study, contemplation, reasoning, 
and prayer. Those momentous themes of humanity, 
redemption, immortality, and heaven, the eternal in- 
terests of the soul, which have exercised the most 
earnest intellects through all the ages of man, he 
zealously dwelt upon, grappling with doctrinal ques- 
tions, settling liis own convictions, and studying modes 
of reasoning by which to impress his convictions on 
others. Yet he was so far a practical man, that he 
could take no cloister-like pleasure in reading and 
reflection, and was incessantly seeking the most avail- 
able application of truth to life, the associated life of 
the race of man. 

Vacation was the signal for him to engage in some 
new expedition as a preacher. The first was usefully 
spent in Montague, Massachusetts. Five persons, dur- 
ing his ministration, joined the church in this place, 
which had not for three years before had a single addi- 
tion. He also lectured on temperance to a crowded 
house. His second winter vacation he spent in preach- 
ing at Windsor, Vermont. He writes home fi'om here, 
describing his labors apart from his regular Sabbath 
preaching : " I have established a Bible-class, which 
includes young and old, and meets on Tuesday even- 
ings; also a Sabbath school which I superintend my- 
self; and I preach on Thursday evenings. My- time 



DIVINITY SCHOOL. 79 

is all taken up. Last Sunday evening fifty persons 
assembled to see me at my residence." Again he 
writes : " I know that I am a miserable correspondent 
this winter ; but I am hurried, hurried, hurried. The 
society is deeply interested now in the concerns of 
religion, and I have to visit a great deal and write two 
sermons every week in addition. I prefer to write 
discourses, as being at present best for me. My audi- 
ences have largely increased, and I believe I am doing 
some good." 

He seemed to hear the sighing of the prisoner m 
the State penitentiary established at Windsor, and 
could not be content without visiting that institution. 
He writes in reference to it as follows : — « 

" The humane efforts of those who have charge of 
the convicts have done much to alleviate the suffering 
inevitably attendant upon long confinement, and great 
exertion is made to provide for the best interests of 
those whose crimes have brought them into this gloomy 
place. It caused me, however, some surprise as well 
as gratification to hear, as I approached the door, the 
voices of many strong men united in singing ; and I 
never felt more thankful to God for the power of 
music to soften and purify the heart, than when look- 
ing upon that band of prisoners whose whole attention 
seemed absorbed by their song. It was my purpose to 
deliver a temperance lecture, since intoxication in this 
State, as well as throughout the civilized world, is the 
prolific source of crime. The convicts, I found, were 
practising temperance melodies. It was touching to 
hear the strains of that household song, ' Long ago,' 
echoed amid those gloomy walls ; and as I gazed upon 



80 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

countenances where sin and painful thought had writ- 
ten somewhat variant lines, I could not but believe 
many were thinking of bygone and innocent days, 
when brighter hopes illumined their pathway, when 
guilt had stained neither hand nor heart. Nor was 
this ' long ago ' with a large portion of that number, 
who were yet young, scarce ha\ang reached the age 
of twenty-five. When the chaplain told me how* few 
had ever been, under religious influences in childhood, 
and that most of them had been neglected boys, edu- 
cated only in vice, my heart refused harshly to con- 
demn them, nor could I feel anything but profound 
pity. How many, now honored and respected by the 
world, woijd have been equally stained, had they been 
nurtured only amid scenes of infamy. 

" I incidentally endeavored, in the course of my lec- 
ture, to convince the auditory, that the object of gov- 
ernment in punishing crime is to protect society ; 
yes, often to protect men from themselves ; and that, 
if they were pardoned to-morrow, or had never been 
detected, punishment, from its nature, would still be 
inevitable, because conscience would harass with its 
bitter reproaches, and they would have known their 
undiscovered guilt and God also. 

" Upon Monday, I accompanied the chaplain once 
more to the prison, and through the favor of its officers 
was allowed to converse freely with any of the con- 
victs. I cannot tell you how much satisfaction this 
gave me ; they seemed generally so ready to acknowl- 
edge their wrong-doing, to be penitent, and desirous of 
reform. Alas ! many of them may break those re- 
solves, or the world's harsh treatment and cold scorn 



DIVINITY SCHOOL. 81 

may drive them once again to mad crime ; yet for 
some I believe and hope better things. It was grati- 
fying to find men who at least were not cased in self- 
righteousness and vanity, which as a coat of mail 
shields from any w^amings. The wages of sin had 
been received by them, and the coinage was burning 
and fearful ; that these men knew. Hardened wretches 
there were, it is true ; men who seemed to have no 
mercy for themselves, and no care for others ; yet, 
thank God, I am not their judge. 

" I saw CHfFord, who murdered his wife and innocent 
children, and through life must be imprisoned. He 
sat in his cell alone^ — always alone, save with the bit- 
ter musings of his depraved spirit. Scarce thirty 
eight, and looking still younger ; he rocked to and fro, 
glaring at me with scowling brow, and fierce, mad eye, 
while my few words through his grated window drew 
no response. Poor, degraded wreck of humanity, — 
how sullen and vindictive ! No word has passed his 
lips for months, but brooding over the past, he re- 
mains, refusing all sympathy, all counsel. Yet who 
can tell but the voice of those who would gladly save 
him from himself may yet arouse some smothered 
spark of feeling in that scorched and seared heart ? 
Clifford has attempted suicide, but failed, miserably 
failed. When a keeper essayed to remove him from 
one cell to another, the ferocious convict endeavored 
to throw him over the balustrade, and thus kill one 
who had treated him only with kindness. 

" I shall never forget how that wretched man looked 
upon me ; nor did I fail to mark how fearful is the 
power which man possesses of thus stifling nearly 
4* r 



82 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

every good thought or germ of tenderness implanted 
in his bosom. How low, how terribly low he, ' made 
but a little lower than the angels,' may fall ! 

" There are now fifty-seven prisoners ; only three 
of whom are confined for murder, and one even of 
these for murder in the second degree, having com- 
mitted the act while intoxicated. There is but one 
negro among the whole number, an abandoned, des- 
perate fellow ; his crime, murder. Years ago he 
escaped from slavery, and who of us can tell how 
much that burning wrong may have goaded and mad- 
dened, how its degradation, more bitter than death, 
more cruel than the grave, may have cankered the 
heart, till it was revengefiil and beastly. If this be so, 
where, where rests the awful responsibility ? Now that 
corrupt African is a dangerous being, and recks little 
for the blood of those who would control his passion- 
ate outbreaks. 

" And yet another, a young man, drew my atten- 
tion. He was the son of a respectable clergyman, 
was scarce twenty-one, and for eight long years must 
render unrequited and silent toil. O how deeply 
affecting to gaze upon his handsome, intelligent face, 
and to hear him talk of those whose affections he had 
crushed and hopes blighted ! ' I shall be almost thirty 
when released,' he said, as he turned his dark eyes 
upon me, who attempted to teach him how much of 
life would still remain to him ; that he might yet be 
happy, if here he resolved to do well and wisely for 
coming time. Idleness and bad company had wrought 
the dark thread in the cord of life for this young man. 
Temptation had thus made him her victim ; and now 



DIVINITY SCHOOL. 83 

where were those companions ? How many of them 
ever thought of his misery, or laughed less loudly 
from the thought of his sad fate ? But there are those 
who do care for him ; those who often love most ten- 
derly the eiTing and world-forsaken, — his mother, 
and his family. He spoke of the letters his mother 
wrote him, and which were angel visitants to his sad 
cell. 

" There is a strong desire manifested by some of the 
convicts to learn to sing, and one of their number has 
been a teacher of music. But they have no singing- 
books nor means of procuring them. A very few tem- 
perance melodies, which those already know^ing common 
tunes can sing, are all which have enabled them to have 
any singing. Of course methodical instruction is now 
out of the question. Yet what greater solace or benefit 
to the poor prisoner than music ? Perhaps nothing could 
avail to soften his heart more ; and shall such means be 
denied ? One of the reasons of that joyous welcome, 
' Come, ye blessed of my Father,' which it is the Chris- 
tian's hope to receive, is that the prisoner has been 
visited. If any cannot visit personally, send those 
books which shall seek out the erring, nor loathe their 
cells. Idleness and bad company brought many a 
wretched one to these dark walls ; let them be taught 
an accomplishment which shall be a companion in soli- 
tude. Afford them innocent and useful recreation, 
and you have done much to guard from temptation. 
Let the plaintive song of penitence echo within these 
walls, and hearts may be touched where otherwise 
no chord could vibrate. Those convicts have been 
promised by me six, or, if possible to get them, twelve 



84 CHAPLAIN FULLER 

copies either of the ' Carmina Sacra' or ' Boston Acad- 
emy's Collection ' of music. Let no person think my 
promise unadvised ; for whether these books can be got 
of others or not, no self-denial would be equal to that 
of allowing such an opportunity for good to pass unim- 
proved." 

At the close of vacation, our student returned to 
Cambridge, and at the end of the term regularly 
gi'aduated from the Divinity School. 

He now felt fully prepared for the great work of the 
Christian ministry. The spiritual unction, the facile 
speech and animated delivery, had secured for their 
auxiliaiy in the Christian warfare a sound learning, 
derived from books " rich with the spoils of time," to- 
gether with intellectual method and discipline. Would 
that the physical man had been meet to sustain the 
spiritual flame ! But in this respect a disproportion 
between the mind and body at once struck the ob- 
server. His figure, of a medium height, all alive with 
the restless nervous temperament, showed a chest too 
narrow to be in equilibrium with the largely developed 
brain.* The mind constantly advanced beyond its un- 
equal yoke-fellow, the body, and the latter frequently 
gave out in the coiu^se. 

* His head measured twentj'-three and a half inches. It may interest 
some readers to learn that his head was once examined by Mr. Fowler, 
the well-known phrenologist, whose chart indicates ideality, benevolence, 
and the reasoning faculties as his leading traits, with a full development 
of moral and religious character. Let this go for what it is worth. Our 
own observation has led us to think the contents of a head more important 
than its capacity. 



PART II. 

THE NEW ENGLAND CLERGYMAN. 



' Work of his hand 
He nor commends nor grieves. 
Speaks for itself the fact ; 
As unrepentant Nature leaves 
Her every act " 

Emerson. 



CHAPTER I. 



MANCHESTER. 



" Though meek and patient as a sheathed sword, 
Though pride's least lurking thought appear a wrong 
To human kind ; though peace be on his tongue, 
Gentleness in his heart •, can earth afford 
Such genuine state, pre-eminence so free, 
As when, arrayed in Christ's authority, 
He from the pulpit lifts his awful hand. 
Conjures, implores, and labors all he can 
For resubjecting to divine command 
The stubborn spirit of rebellious man ? " 

Wordsworth. 




N graduating from the Divinity School, Arthur 
Fuller preached a few Sabbaths at Albany, 
New York. Here, he writes, " I have been 
attending a course of antislavery lectiu'es 
by Frederick Douglass, the fugitive slave, and have 
become greatly interested." The field of religious 
labor in Albany seemed too arduous for his then state 
of health. He says : " I will tell you what is the 
strong desire of my heart, — a good large parish in 
the country. I wish a religious society ; for I believe 
my motives in entering the ministry are, in all sincerity 
and humility, to save souls. This is no idle talk with 
me, as you will believe. And this doing good, in a 
contented, quiet, conscientious way, is my ambition.^* 
On returning to Massachusetts he was engaged to take 



88 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

the place of Rev. Edward T. Taylor, the Bethel 
preacher in Boston, usually styled " Father Taylor," 
who was to be absent about three months. It was no 
easy task to hold the attention of the rough salts 
who made up a good part of the audience, and wlio 
were habituated to the dramatic preaching and truly 
wonderful though eccentric eloquence of Father Tay- 
lor.* But here Western experience stood our preacher 
in good stead. He made the billows roll in his dis- 
course, and levied contributions from Neptune's every 
mood, to arrest the ear, and depict in nautical guise 
the Divine tnith. 

On the return of Father Taylor, our young minister 
preached for three months at West Newton, Massa- 
chusetts, when he received and accepted a call from 
Manchester, New Hampshire. Here he was soon after 
duly ordained. The condition of the church and soci- 
ety when he assumed the charge is thus depicted in 
an editorial article in the Manchester Mirror : — 

" The Unitarian Society in this place, like a youth 
of early promise, on which consumption had laid its 
wasting hand, seemed to be fast sinking into a prema- 
ture grave. Its dissolution was so strongly anticipated 
by some of its scanty members, that a few of those 
who had helped by their money and influence to sus- 
tain it for years left it, from reluctance to witness its 
dying struggles, and connected themselves with other 
societies. Still there were a few who, crowned with 



* An instance of Father Taylor's style occurs to memory, which will 
illustrate his figurative speech. In a very dry time he had been requested 
to pray for rain, and complied in the following terms : " Lord, the thirsty 
earth sends up its prayer to thee in clouds of dust! " 



MANCHESTER. 89 

that rich jewel, Hope, continued to strive on against 
the calumny of foes and worse desertion of friends. 

" In this their darkest hour. Providence sent to 
them a pale student, whose physical frame, tender as 
the summer plant, seemed ill-adapted to feed a robust 
brain, and little fitted to endure the toil requisite to 
the performance of the arduous and often perplexing 
duties of pastor to a society which had hardly a name 
to live. The gentleman had been sent to supply the 
pulpit for only one Sabbath, yet with but little inter- 
mission he has supplied it ever since. We need not 
say the person above alluded to is their present effi- 
cient and eloquent pastor, Arthur B. Fuller." The 
congregation, when he commenced his labors, says the 
same authority, " embraced about fifty persons." The 
church was at a low ebb, " attenuated to but the 
square of two." 

Soon a change passed over this scene, which is thus 
described by a writer in the Christian Inquirer : " In 
his (Rev. A. B. Fuller's) charge at Manchester, New 
Hampshire, I was permitted to see a congregation 
vitahzed by his fervor and permeated by his Method- 
istic spirit. I had known the church when it was 
feeble, lifeless, and doubting. Under him, it changed 
as by a miracle, as no one thought of withstanding his 
influence : old and young were brought into an earnest 
sympathy with their pastor, as beautiful as it is rare. 
Other denominations gathered closely around him, 
whom they call Orthodox and Evangelical. The 
pews were full as often as he was able to occupy the 
pulpit. Prayer-meetings, which he loved more than 
any of us, were a perfect success." 



90 CHAPLAIN fullp:r. 

The pastor's earnestness and eloquence had a deep 
foundation. He believed himself in a perishing world, 
whose only hope is in the Lord Jesus Christ. He 
recognized the need of regeneration. These great 
doctrines are well suited to kindle the ardor and nerve 
the energy of one who loves God and man, and who 
feels himself called to preach the everlasting Gospel. 
But it was not merely the necessity of religion : it was 
the delight which the preacher felt in the law of his 
God, the deep joy of heavenly communion, the foun- 
tain of immortal satisfaction, which he partook of in 
the contemplation of God's attributes of love, majesty, 
and power, which gave for him divine charms to tem- 
ple worship and the meetings for social prayer. Nor 
was rehgion with him an insulated sentiment or emo- 
tion, without a leavening influence on the associate 
traits of character. The whole man was pervaded by 
it. It gave and received influence from the intellect 
and the practical life. His preaching partook of this 
character, seeking to thread all the mazes of life with 
the pervasive irrigation of religion ; to make religion 
practical, and the practical religious ; to render the in- 
tellect religious, and religion intellectual ; to secure 
the joint, harmonious action of mind and heart ; to 
cherish aspiration, not as a detached emotion, but as 
the normal, combined operation of all the faculties in 
every channel of activity. 

"We had the pleasure," says an editorial in the 
Manchester Mirror, speaking of the Rev. A. B. Fuller, 
"of listening to a discourse by this pastor, in which 
was developed one of the great secrets of his success 
among the people, which consists not more in his 



MANCHESTER. 91 

chaste and flowery language and winning style, than 
in his presentation of the great practicability and adap- 
tation of Christianity to all the purposes of life. In 
his discourse, he entered familiarly into all the social 
and business relations of man with his fellows ; show- 
ing the imperative duty of honest dealing in buying 
and selling, as well as in our social relations to be 
guided by the Christian sentiment of love and good- 
will one towards another, our obligation to have our 
religion manifested by works each day of the week 
as well as on the Sabbath, and not to clasp in our 
Bibles or lock up in our churches our religious ob- 
ligations and duties. Religion has something to do 
with the whole man ; and those who profess Christian- 
ity, and would adom their profession, should follow its 
teachings, and carry into practice its requirements, at 
all times and all places and under all circumstances." 

He was very conscious of the importance of pastoral 
visiting to success in the ministry, and assiduous in 
paymg visits, encouraging his people also to call on 
him. Yet, to prevent this part of his duty from en- 
croaching seriously upon his labors in the study, he 
arranged a system of proceeding. He writes : " I 
have adopted regular rules for the employment of my 
time, and find it advantageous. I give notice of it to 
my people, that they may observe my hours." 

The influence of the prayers of the new pastor, and 
of his exposition of truth, through the Divine blessing, 
became more and more manifest, not merely in an 
increasing audience, but, what was better, in an awak- 
ened religious interest, and souls gathered in as the 
precious seals of his ministry. The Divine grace, 



92 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

falling first as the noiseless but refreshing dew, then 
in occasional reviving drops, descended at length in a 
blessed shower. 

" Yesterday," he writes, " was the happiest day of my 
ministerial life. My society has heretofore prospered 
outwardly and to a certain extent in religious things ; 
but there has been at no one time any united movement 
such as is often termed a revival, and in which many 
souls at once seem full of concern, and others obtain a 
bright and blessed life. But for the few past weeks 
there has been that earnest state of feeling, and yes- 
terday some seven persons presented themselves be- 
fore the altar to unite with Christ's visible Church, 
and consecrate their lives to his service. It was a 
morning of deep feeling. The whole congregation 
were moved, and all those to whom I spoke at noon 
seemed much affected, most even to tears. This is 
but the beginning of a true revival of pure religion 
and self-consecration, as I hope and believe. I rejoice 
in it. In my mind there is no prejudice against a well- 
conducted and carefully guarded movement of this 
kind, in which excess does not necessarily mingle. 
Give me even excitement rather than apathy. Those 
who united yesterday were influential business men 
and most devoted women. I could tell you sweet 
things about nearly all of them. To-morrow evening, 
we hold a meeting of the church, to be followed by a 
meeting of inquirers, in which we shall set oui' church 
all to work, and answer the questions of those who 
long to know what they shall do to be saved. Kejoice 
with me, dear brother, that such a season of refresh- 
ing and re^aval is now^ vouchsafed to my church and 
society." 



MANCHESTER. 93 

111 the pastor's success it must not be supposed that 
he encountered no difficulties, no discouragements. 
He always had his full share of conflict with obstacles ; 
but, armed with the shield of faith, the helmet of salva- 
tion, and the sword of the Spirit, he did not yield, nor 
withhold the counsel of God. 

At one time the most wealthy and influential man 
in the society, the pillar and mainstay, was exasperated 
by an earnest sermon against the great wrong of slav- 
ery, and dwelling upon the black crimes the slave 
power had perpetrated by the aid of a supple North. 
The gentleman called on the pastor, and told him 
that sermon had determined him to quit the society, 
and connect himself with that of another denomina- 
tion. The pastor received this announcement in a 
very different manner from what had been antici- 
pated. He assured his parishioner that he approved 
of his resolution. " I have preached to you," said 
he, " a considerable period of time, and with little 
apparent eflect. Probably my mode of presenting 
truth is not adapted to your case. I hope a style of 
preaching which dwells more habitually upon the 
sterner themes of Divine truth may aff^ect your heart." 

The parishioner, finding he should not punish the 
minister by going to another church, declared he 
would not go to any. The pastor expressed sor- 
row, but would not yield an iota of the independence 
of the pulpit, in preaching the whole counsel of 
God. There the matter cb'opped, and there for some 
months it rested. The pastor, meanwhile, was always 
courteous when he met the lost parishioner. At length 
as he was passing one day the bank with which the 



94 CHATLAIN FULLER. 

gentleman was connected, he was surprised to notice 
his ex-friend beckoning to him to enter. What was 
to come off he could not imagine, but he expected 
nothing agi*eeable. On entering he was requested to 
be seated by the former parishioner, who was writing 
at a desk. He patiently complied, and presently his 
parishioner, approaching, placed in his hand a check 
for twenty -five dollars, saying, " Mr. Fuller, I respect 
you for your independence, and I give you that as a 
token of my appreciation." The pastor was much 
affected, and felt inwardly to thank God, not so much 
on his own account, as for the change which had been 
wrought in his parishioner. 

The harmony between them was never afterward 
interrupted. The parishioner would listen quietly as 
a lamb to the occasional philippics which the pulpit 
did not neolect to thunder against " the sum of all 
villanies." The parishioner died not long after, be- 
queathing a handsome legacy to the society, and his 
pastor delivered an affecting eulogy upon the departed. 
Was it not better for the clergyman thus to do and 
dare, trusting in the Lord ? Was it not far better for 
the parishioner ? Was he not taught to trust the 
sincerity and fidelity of the pastor, who he saw would 
not yield his Master's cause to the pressure of golden 
influence ? 

Our pastor encountered also a similar temporary 
reverse with a most happy ultimate result, in his pulpit 
presentation of the cause of temperance, — a subject 
which he not only advocated zealously to secular as- 
sembHes, but pressed home upon his people with his 
characteristic earnestness. 



MANCHESTER. 95 

He had prepared a temperance address, which he 
delivered in a neighboring town on a special occasion ; 
and, impressed with the religious importance of his 
theme, he threw it into the sermon form, and delivered 
it from his pulpit. It happened that a wealthy man in 
his society was engaged in the sale of spirituous liquors. 
He took umbrage at the sermon, declared it was per- 
sonal, and written expressly for him,- and he would go 
to meeting no more. So he retu'ed, like Achilles to 
his tent. But it was no easy matter to persuade his 
children to the like course ; for they were attached to 
their pastor, who always loved children, and drew 
them closely to him in the Sabbath school, and had a 
smile and pleasant word for them wdierever he met 
them, calling his- lambs by name, occasionally too 
devoting a half-day service and sermon especially to 
them. Nor was the wife willing to forego her religious 
privileges for the grievance of her lord. So the rest 
of the family still attended church, and the head of 
the household was thus often reminded that there was 
such an institution, and, strange to say, it was still in 
progi'ess, notwithstanding his dereliction. 

Meanwhile the pastor was equally civil to the father 
when he met him, and equally cordial toward the rest 
of the family. At length the wife asked him if he 
could not send some message to her husband, who was 
by no means happy, yet, with the fancy rankling in his 
mind that the offensive sermon was written especially 
for him, could not be reconciled. The pastor said that 
he had nothing to take back about the sermon ; but if 
it would be any relief to her husband, she could tell 
him that it was originally written as a temperance 



96 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

lecture to be delivered in another locality, and with 
no thought of him. Now again the relieved parish- 
ioner appeared in his place at church. He did not, 
however, expect the pastor to refrain fi-om temperance 
sermons. Nor did he now wish it, for he himself 
gave up the traffic in spirituous liquors, and put his 
hand to the temperance cause. 

Not long afterward, on a dark night, two men found 
their way with a lantern to the pastor's residence, to 
engage him to give a lecture on temperance in a 
neighboring town. One of them was the reconciled 
parishioner! What an unlooked-for issue was this 
to the difficulty ! What a sunshine succeeding the 
shadow which had briefly rested on the faithful preach- 
er's heart ! For, though persevering in fidelity to 
his appointed duty as watchman on Zion's walls, he 
could not be indifferent to the hearts which he must 
alienate in proclaiming the Divine displeasure with 
iniquity. 

In Manchester, as everywhere in his ministerial 
labors, our pastor loved that garden of the Lord 
where the buds of childhood and the opening bloom 
of youth are fostered, a favorite resort of the Divine 
Gardener, where he finds a sweet perfume, — the 
Sabbath school. In a sermon relative to the share of 
duty which falls to the congregation, in the joint work 
of pastor and people, he says : " This city contains 
hundreds, perhaps a thousand childi-en, who are mem- 
bers of no Sabbath school, and who seldom or never 
enter a church. If you think this a high estimate, go 
to those who have searched, and you will be astonished 
at your previous incredulity. Now shall we do noth- 



MANCHKSTEK. 97 

ing to gather these souls, fast contracting the taint of 
vice and corniption, into the place of religious instruc- 
tion ? Great God ! is it nothing to us that these little 
ones, for whom Christ died, and whom he has pro- 
nounced our own brethren, are treading the highway 
to death, trained only in iniquity and crime ? " 

He says, on another occasion, in enforcing parental 
duty : " Begin, dear parents, early to teach your chil- 
di'en religion. I am persuaded that many, very many, 
are converted in childhood, and so in very youth 
ripened for heaven. Yes ; there are parents in my 
audience who know, either of the living or departed, 
that this is gloriously true ! The seeds of sin, too, 
sown in the heart of childhood, or found already there, 
will spring up to yield a fatal harvest, unless by prayer 
and effort parents early begin to educate their children 
for heaven. Else must the parents be called to com- 
fortless mourning for their offspring, and bitter memo- 
ries be garnered in conscience, even for eternity." 

We find our pastor, too, at Manchester laboring as 
one of the committee of the public schools, and lectur- 
ing on moral and educational topics to promiscuous 
assemblies. He advocated there and in neighboring 
towns the passage of the Maine Law. He delivered 
courses of lectures, giving sketches of prominent Scrip- 
ture personages'; also upon the respective duties of 
parents and children, and the sphere of woman. He 
spoke to teachers' institutes and literary associations. 
In a published address he delivered before the Acad- 
emy in Bedford, New Hampshire, he indicates the 
religious importance of education in the following 
terms. 

5 O 



98 CHAPLAIN FUI.LKR. 

"It is our sincere opinion, tliat intellectual cul- 
ture is immortal in its tendency and nature, and by 
streno-tlieninor man's mental faculties, increases his 
capacities for bliss and the acquisition of spiritual 
knowledge hereafter. The mind, the thought, can 
never die ; they live on, immortal as God from whom 
they came. I could not advocate so earnestly the 
acquisition of knowledge, if Kmited to this brief life. 
I plead for it, because philosophy and just reasoning 
teach us that such acquisition is of eternal value, and 
fits for a higher sphere of spiritual enjoyment hereafter. 

" I have been gi'ieved sometimes to hear Christian 
men and women speak slightingly and disparagingly 
of human learning. Ah, Christian ! where were that 
Bible you value, save for that human learning which 
translated it into a language familiar to your ear ? 
Where were it, had not some poor wise man discov- 
ered the art of printing ? Where would have been 
the Protestant Reformation, had not Luther known 
other languages than his own, and translated from the 
" crooked Greek " the Book of books, for the use of 
the common people ? Christian ! look again at your 
Bible, ere you deprecate human learning, or array 
yourself against the friends of education ; for 

* Piety hath found friends 
In the friends of science, and true prayer 
Hath flowed from lips wet with Castalian dews.' 

" All honor to our Puritan forefathers ! They were 
not indeed perfect ; but their faults were those of their 
age, while their virtues were not of their age, but, by 
the grace of God, their own. Long may the church 
and school-house stand, as they wisely placed them, 



MANCHESTER. 99 

side by side, each as a safeguard against the mistakes 
of the other. To tlie educated clergy of New Eng- 
land and their zeal for knowledge, to their early estab- 
lishment of schools and universities, is due much of 
our prosperity, our greatness." 

Having thus slightly sketched the pastor's labors, we 
glance now at the home where his heart rested and 
his mind composed. For more than a year his mother 
was housekeeper at the parsonage. In a letter, he thus 
refers to her ; " She is quite well now, yet has not 
much strength, nor will she ever have again. Her 
years press heavily upon her ; yet in her feelings she 
can never grow old." In another letter, nearly of the 
same date, he says : " This is mother's birthday. She 
speaks of- you with that love which so tender a mother 
uniformly feels for her children. To-day she is sixty- 
one. Her years with us must now be few. May we 
do all in our power to make those few happy." 

In the same letter he thus refers to his sister Mar- 
garet : " She is a most affectionate and gifted sister. 
We have in our family all the elements requisite for 
great happiness." Alas ! that happiness was destined 
to a tragical interruption ! 

*' Life is a sea. How fair its face, 
How smooth its dimpled waters pace, 
Its canopy how pure ! 
Yet hidden storms and tempests sleep 
Beneath the surface of the deep, 
Nor leave an hour secure." 

The kindred tie linking the hearts of this family 
together was strong and affectionate. Especially Mar- 
garet was regarded with loving pride by the dear 
brothers and sister for whom she had sacrificed so 



•100 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

much, and by the widowed parent "who had leaned on 
her in place of the staff death had stricken from her 
hands. One way the mother had of expressing her 
affection in life, and her love stronger than death, Avas 
in the culture of her daughter's favorite flowers, fos- 
tered in the garden, and ultimately cherished to breathe 
the balmy incense of affectionate memory over the 
cenotaph, commemorating the daughter when her spirit 
and body alilve could no more be found in earth. 

She thus in a letter exhorts her son : " I wish you 
to pay especial attention to Margaret's favorites, sweet 
pease, mignonette, and mourning bride. Many bou- 
quets have I made of them for her." 

Margaret, on her part, fully reciprocated her moth- 
er's affection. She writes to Arthur, anticipating her 
return home again from foreign lands : " I hope to 
find you in your home, and make you a good visit 
there. Your invitation is sweet in its tone, and rouses 
a vision of summer woods and New England Sabbath 
morning bells. It seems to me, from your letter and 
mother's, that she is at last in her true sphere. Watch 
over her carefully, and do not let her do too much. 
Her spirit is only too willing, but the flesh is weak, 
and her life is precious to us all." 

But the time had now come for death to make 
another breach in the family, prostrating Margaret, its 
noble column, and this by an assault singularly un- 
expected and severe. 

She had been absent on the Continent for three 
years. During this time she had been united in mar- 
riage with a noble Roman, captain of the Civic Guard, 
and a brave combatant in the Italian struggle begin- 



MANCHESTER. 101 

ning in 1848, which martyred so many patriotic lives 
for the time in vain. The union was a happy one, 
and is thus described by Mrs. Wilham W. Story in 
a letter to Mrs. James Russell Lowell ; '' You ask 
about Margaret's marriao;e. I think she has chosen 
the better part in marrying. Her husband is noble by 
nature as well as by birth, and seems more the lover 
now than even before marriage." This union had 
been blessed by the birth of a beautiful boy. 

The trio were on their return voyage in the summer 
of 1850, and the mother, brothers, and sister were 
hourly expecting to greet again that loved and gifted 
member of their family circle with the added treasures 
of aflPection she brought with her. But " O the heavy 
change ! " The paper which should have announced 
the vessel's arrival contained instead an awful tele- 
gram, with the stunning tidings of the vessel's wreck, 
and the graves those loved voyagers had found in the 
tempestuous sea ! 

The family, when this ill news flew fast to them, 
lightning-winged, were waiting to repair to New York, 
w^here the vessel w^as expected to arrive. They now 
w^ent thither, — but how sad a journey ! — for the 
vessel had foundered on Fire Island, an exterior bar- 
rier of New York harbor. When they reached the 
scene of the terrible drama, the angry sea, not yet 
calmed, was still rolling its mountain billows over the 
stranded wreck,' its poor ruined victim swept over by 
its waves at scarcely a stone's throw from the firm 
shore where the grief-bowed mother, the afflicted 
brothers and sister in vain strained their eyes into the 
foamy deep to catch any vestige of the noble and loved 



102 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

form of Margaret. The body of the babe alone the 
ruthless ocean relinquished, after life was exhausted, to 
be borne away for burial in a sweet spot watered by 
tears and garlanded by living flowers. 

The mother endured this sorrow through " the dear 
might of Him who walked the wave," and who will 
not lay upon us a trial greater than we are able 
to bear. But she contracted from it (such was her 
physician's opinion) that malady which, nine years 
after, terminated her mortal career. Arthur bore the 
affliction with fortitude. He writes some months after- 
wards : " There are sad memories which at times op- 
press me, and the sense of the loss we have met only 
grows deeper as time passes. But I know it is not 
right to be absorbed by these griefs ; neither right 
towards those living in this world, nor those living in 
the other ; and I seek only to remember what Mar- 
garet has been, is still, and shall he to us." 

In the autumn of this year our pastor took a step 
which had been deferred by the family bereavement, 
but which a regard for his afflicted mother's health, no 
longer adequate to a housekeeper's duties, rendered it 
prudent to delay no longer. He was happily united in 
marriage with Elizabeth G. Davenport, of Mendon, 
Massachusetts. We will describe her in his own 
words, contained in a family letter : " I find one who 
bears with me my burdens, and who is already greatly 
beloved by my people. Gentle, yet unifoiTnly self- 
possessed, she deserves and always secures respect. 
It. is a great relief, too, to be able to share all my 
thoughts and feelings with one who sympathizes warmly 
with me. I have gi'eat cause to be thankful to God." 



MANCHESTER. 103 

It is sometimes imagined that the expansion of the 
heart over a wide field comprising multiphed objects 
must diminish its love for that home where it oricn- 
nated, and whence it has enlarged in concentric circles, 
like tlie smooth surface of a lake into wliich some list- 
less hand has dropped a pebble. We believe this to 
be a false surmise. Love partakes of the infinite ca- 
pacity of its Divine Original, who glories in it as his 
name, and it " grows by what it feeds on," strength- 
ened in its first generous affections by its enlarging 
range. So it certainly was with Arthur Fuller. His 
filial and brotherly love could be supplanted by no 
new ties, nor by his unlimited philanthropy. Pleasing 
proofs of this we can adduce fi'om his family letters ; a 
few of which we will cite, not only for this purpose, 
but also for the sentiment they contain, and the ligh^ 
they throw upon his character. 

The following letter is addressed to Richard and his 
companion, on the birth of their oldest son. 

" I rejoice with you in your new blessing. ^larried 
life is comparatively sad, if no children are given to 
increase attachment to one another and to life. You 
will find great satisfaction in trainino; this youno; ini- 
mortal in all good things, physical, mental, and spirit- 
ual. I have named the three in their proper order of 
development and attention ; for education is educing^ 
developing, not grafting on, or producing. His phys- 
ical well-being, the laying of a good foundation of 
bodily health, will deserve your especial attention. 
Too many parents foster the mind's growth at the 
body's expense, and allow the wick of life, in giving 
too much li£:ht, to waste the candle. You will not be 
so unwise. 



104 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

*' It is looking a good way forward, to think much 
now of the little boy's mental culture. Yet that 
should begin early. Try to give balance rather than 
precocity. 

" You will both of you, as parents, have additional 
reason to care for the regulation of your own lives 
and hearts. Man is an imitative being, and especially 
assimilates, in his mental growth, the lessons, however 
minute, which parental example inculcates. Your deech^ 
not your words, will be the copy which his youthful 
hand will inscribe with indelible lines upon his heart. 

" Spiritual training, distinctively so termed, I name 
last, as last in order.. True, this forms part of physical 
and yet more of mental education, and should blend 
with them all. If he have a sound body, he will be 
free from the vexations of ill-temper which ill-health 
produces ; if a sound mind, then he will readily see 
the relations between right and wrong, and discrimi- 
nate as to truth and falsehood. Do not seek to form 
his opinions^ but his character. Religion is character, 
not opinion. The sound heart will never allow the 
bead to err as to saving doctrine. Do not seek, there- 
fore, to give an undue bias on either side, but look 
well to the fountain, for ' out of the heart are the 
issues of life.' " 

We will cite also a letter occasioned by the event 
which makes the opposite to birth ; closing, as that 
opens, the mortal drama. 

"Dear Eugene and Eliza: — 
" A few days since the sad intelligence of your 
mutual and heavy sorrow reached me. I do not call 
it your loss ; for how can it be so to have a treasure 



MANCHESTKR. 105 

transferred to heaven, wliich may lead you more and 
more to fix your hearts where is stored your precious 
jewel. I once viewed death and earthly separations 
differently from my present thought ; but the more 
deeply I drink life's cup, by so much the more do I 
long to taste that of immortality, even if death's bitter 
draught must first be drained. 

'^ Doubtless our Father, in his love for Ms children, 
considered what you would suffer ; yet sent the death- 
angel in mercy to teach the sad lesson of mortality. 

" I had learned already to love this little niece 
whom I have never seen, but whom I shall see at no 
distant day. 

" I could not refrain from saying these few words 
to you. I feel that our laments of earthly separation 
are but the preludes to the glad songs of heaven, 
where these loved infant voices will greet us again, 
never more to be hushed in death." 

The fountain of pleasantry which had played up so 
spontaneously in Arthur's childhood, imbittered by 
the tears of his early orphanage, and chilled afterward 
by many a hard life lesson, .sobered, too, by assiduous 
labors and pressing cares, lost its early exuberance. 
Yet it occasionally works free of minghng tears, and 
sheds again its refreshing on his way. We find a few 
instances of this in his letters, which, though passing 
from grave to gay, we think may be cited as not out 
of keeping with the tessellated course of life. 

In a January letter from Manchester, when the 
skies of fortune also wore a wintry aspect for railroad 
stocks, he writes : — 
5* 



106 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

" This really cold day convinces us that winter has 
not been omitted from the list of the seasons. I sup- 
pose in your warm office you are not, like us, exasper- 
ated by the biting salutations of Jack Frost, who dares 
to breathe his cold aspersions upon the most reverend 
heads in New Hampshire, and makes the exposed front 
feel as well as look like a marble brow. 

" I shall be in Boston next week on Wednesday, 
and meanwhile should be glad if you would exercise 
your financial abilities in the sale of a little stock and 
the purchase of other for me. The Providence shares 
have never seemed, in any but a satirical sense, a 
providential thing for me. To keep those two shares 
would be a tempting of Providence, and I doubt not 
be the cause of a further fall in my pride consequent 
upon a farther fall in the stocks. 

" At any rate I want to sell to a young man like 
you ; though I fear it may be needful to seek some 
one still younger, who has confidence, and does not 
rail at all railroads. With the proceeds please make 
insurance doubly sure, by purchasing two shares 
additional to the two of that ilk which I already pos- 
sess." 

Again Januarius exhilarates him to the following 
letter, all charges in which the recipient would have it 
clearly understood he distinctly repels. 

" I wish you would write that you have searched, 
and that my great-coat is or is not in Boston. I wrote 
to you some time since a letter upon no other subject, 
save that I closed with a hope that your health was 
good. You replied, or rather wrote a note, giving 
am-ple assm*ances in regtird to your health, but not one 



MANCHESTER. 107 

word as to the coat. I put the subject in the postscript 
of another letter, knowing that the postscript is the 
most important and noticeable part. Not a word in 
reply yet. Now I suppose that the great-coat is con- 
venient to you, and that possession is nine tenths of 
the law, — but not of the gospel^ remember ! I shall 
get out a writ of ejectment, if I hear of your parading 
that coat on Washington Street. It does look well, I 
know, but then — " 

He alludes to the general subject of playful spirits 
in another epistle written upon his birthday. 

'' I duly received your letter calling on me for a 
* jocular reply.' Gayety has not for years been the 
prevailing mood of my mind, and is much less so now. 
My frame is rather that of calmness and serenity. 
Life lias been a serious, thoughtful business, and has 
sliown me too much suffering in the world, too much 
no^d of inward conflict, to admit of much mirth. Yet 
I am seldom if ever sad, and after seeing you, or some 
friend of more care-free hours, I am gay again. Yet 
the fountain of mirth does not overflow, unless some 
angel visitant troubles the waters. 

" This is my birthday. I have risen early, and am 
writing to you. You will not expect mirth to be in 
my heart on this morning of reflection. Yet I think 
myself very happy, much happier than as a child. 
Then I had much to endure, without the inward sup- 
port to enable me to bear the petty ills that assail that 
period of life. Now I am in feeble health, but that 
does not sadden me. I am pastor of a good and appre- 
ciating society, and above all have a glimmering of 
those bright joys to come, which even now would be 



108 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

more than a reward, were I wliollj self-consecrated. 
Ah ! were I not conscious of faults and of departures 
from the one true path, by coming short of the full 
discharge of duty, then I should be perfectly happy ! 
Were I to live my childhood over again, I would do 
everything to gain a sound, strong constitution ; for 
lack of strength has hindered my best efforts from 
full success. I would gain, too, accomplishments which 
might beguile sick hours, and would be taught method- 
ical habits. Father's death, and the consequent griefs 
and anxieties, probably prevented all this. Yet how 
soon at the lonfrest shall I cro to that home where 
neither physical strength nor aught but holiness will 
be needful I I think much of mother and of you all 
to-day, and with ever-increased love." 

The year 1853 opened with a notable providence 
in the life of om- Manchester minister. On New 
Year's day he writes : " I am now in manhood's 
prime, — thirty years of age. The sands of my life 
must be more than half run out. I feel a solemnity 
not easy to express." A few days after this he visited 
his brother in Massachusetts, and on his retui'n, over 
the Boston and Maine Railroad, a remarkable accident 
occurred, which he describes in one of the newspapers 
in the following terms : — - 

" You desire me, Mr. Editor, to w^rite out the par- 
ticulars of the distressing railroad casualty. The train 
left Boston at quarter past twelve at noon. There 
were about forty in the car where I was seated. A 
portion of the passengers were in a sportive mood. I 
recollect particularly some young men jesting upon 
the phrase of their passenger tickets, ' Good for this 



MANCIIESrER. 109 

trip only,' and speculating for how many other trips 
the same ticket had been and would hereafter be used. 
And yet to some that trip doubtless has proved the 
last. We were on an express train, and only stopped 
at Wilmington, Ballardvale, and South Andover ; at 
each of which places more passengers got in, thus 
increasing the number in our car to about sixty. At 
South Andover General Pierce and his lady, accompa- 
nied by their interesting little boy of thirteen, entered 
the car, and took seats in the front, near where I sat. 
We had gone about a mile and a half further, and 
were at our full speed, — I was looking out of the 
window, — when we felt a severe shock, and the car 
was dragged for a few seconds, the axle of the front 
wheel being broken. 

'* In another second the coupling of our car parted, 
and it was wliirled violently round, so as to reverse 
the ends, and we were swung over a rocky ledge into 
a place many feet below the railroad grade. I retained 
my consciousness perfectly, and had no expectation of 
escaping death. I shall never forget the breathless 
horror which came over us during our fall. There 
was not a shriek nor an exclamation till the car, after 
having turned over twice on the rocks, was arrested 
with a violent concussion, parted in the middle, and 
then broke into many thousand fragments. I received 
personally a few bruises and flesh cuts of no particular 
moment, and found myself amid a mass of shattered 
glass and splintered wood and groaning men and 
w^omen, with no limbs broken, and with a heart to 
praise God for his sparing mercy. The car was a frag- 
mentary ruin, and there was no need to make the exit 



110 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

from door or window. The next moment a man, cov- 
ered with blood himself, — a noble fellow, — cried, 
' We are alive ; let us help others ! ' I passed from 
one frightful part of the scene to another, which 
seemed like a dreadful vision. Men came up on every 
side di'ipping with blood, and few escaped without 
some cuts or biTiises. Before all were rescued, the 
top, covered with oil-cloth, took fire fi-om the stove, 
adding to the general horror, and suffering. 

" Among the many terrible incidents, two especially 
impressed me. On the bank sat a mother, clasping her 
little boy some three or four years of age. He had 
been snatched from the ruin which had strown the 
rock with splintered fragments, and her own person 
wiis considerably burned ; but she was shedding tears 
of gi'atitude over her rescued child, and rejoicing in 
his safety, unmindful of her own pain. A few steps 
from her I saw the most appalling scene of all. There 
was another mother whose agony beggars descrip- 
tion. She could shed no tears, but, overwhelmed 
with grief, uttered affecting words which I can never 
forget. It was Mrs. Pierce, the lady of the President 
elect ; and near her, in that ruin of shivered wood and 
iron, lay a more terrible rum, her only son, one minute 
before so beautifiil, so full of life and hope I The 
blow by which he was killed instantly struck his fore- 
head. 

" Soon we were able to convey the wounded and 
the dead to the nearest house. After the head of the 
little boy had been tenderly cared for by the physi- 
cians, and all possible done to restore the look of life, 
he was carried by us to the house which he had left 



MANCHESTER. Ill 

SO recently. I shall never forget the look of exti'eme 
pain that child's face wore ; and yet there was some- 
thing resigned and tender impressed even .by the aw- 
ful hand of death. The form which had left that 
house but little more than an hour before, full of life 
and happiness, was now borne back to those who had 
parted from him, — the heart hushed and stOl, — the 
form motionless, and the limbs fast growing rigid under 
the icy touch of death." 

The day following the disaster, he thus writes to his 
brother respecting it. 

" I write to you from the land of the living. I am 
a good deal jarred and bruised. I did not feel it at all 
at first ; others suffered so much more, especially Gen- 
eral Pierce and lady, who were so terribly bereaved. 
I shall never forget that scene of horror. It is before 
my mind every moment, and will not away. Nothing 
but the mercy of God saved any of us from utter 
destruction. It is wonderful that any live to tell that 
fearful story. I expected to die, and looked death in 
the face with calmness. I was astonished to find my- 
self alive amid that awful ruin. I was blessed in being 
of some service to those bereaved pai'ents, most heav- 
ily stricken in the midst of their greatness, and also 
in aiding the wounded and suffering. How thankful 
should I be ! What a life of holiness I ought to lead I 
Surely no pride should require the repetition of that 
dread lesson, that in the midst of life we are in 
death. 

" How little did I think when I left you at the rail- 
road station, that the interview we there terminated 
bid fau' to be our last ! All our meetings ought to be 



112 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

SO profitable and true, that, if the last, the survivor 
might feel no regret, and the dying have a sweet and 
calm conscience. Such may ours ever be ! 

" I always felt that I should not Hve beyond thirty ; 
yet w^hen the axle of that car broke, I was laying 
plans for the futui-e, when in a moment the thought 
flashed on my mind, ' For me there is no earthly 
future. In a moment I must meet my God.' I am 
very thankful, especially on account of dear mother 
and my wife, and those who love me, who would have 
felt the shock of another violent death in the family." 

The plans which he says he was revolving in his 
mind when the railroad catastrophe occurred, very 
likely related to changing the place of his pastoral 
labors. He had some months before received a call 
from the New North Church in Boston, which he felt 
bound t-o refuse, by reason of the great unwillingness 
of his people to part Avith him. The call was, how- 
ever, pressingly renewed, and after much hesitation he 
concluded to accept it. He thus states his reasons in 
his family correspondence. 

'' It costs me a pang to leave here, and I go to a 
very arduous post ; but I feel it to be the call of duty. 
I make no pecmiiary gain by the exchange, and must 
work harder than ever before. Yet I hope not only 
to accomplish much good in the great heart of our 
denomination by my efforts, but also to have more 
time for study and to elaborate my sermons than I 
can have here. My own mind needs further develop- 
ment. Here I have almost no exchanges, have access 
to no larcre library, and have to write two sermons 
nearly every week, besides a vast deal of parish visit- 



MANCHESTER. 113 

ing. A change of location will aid me in these re- 
spects, as I have a good stock of sermons now written, 
and shall be near Cambridge library and have plenty 
of exchanges. I shall, too, be near you and other 
members of the family." 

We have been favored with a letter from Hon. 
Daniel Clark, United States Senator from New Hamp- 
shire, respecting the pastorate in Manchester, the place 
of the senator's home residence ; with extracts from 
which we close this chapter. 

" Your lamented brother was held by me among my 
most esteemed friends. I took much interest in him ; 
and with my family he seemed almost 'as one of us.' 

'' My little boys would leave at once their sports, 
and always run to see Mr. Fuller. And Mrs. Clark 
always regarded him with an interest stronger, I 
thmk, than she ever felt for any pastor save Dr. 
Peabody, late of Portsmouth, her native town. 

" Your sainted mother, too, was very dear to us. 
She was an angel on earth, — kind, affectionate, pure, 
sympathizing, and devoted. My little ones always 
called her 'Auntie Fuller.' 

" The ministry of your brother at Manchester was 
a very successful one. Not only with his own society 
was he very popular, but wdth all others. 

" He was so sincere, so zealous, and so devoted, that 
he entirely disarmed sectarianism, and won his way to 
the hearts of all. He came to us when feeble. He 
built us up ; but when he left our strength was gone. 

" When he died for his country, he had been absent 
from us many years ; yet I may truthfully say, from 
the time he left us to the day of his death he was con- 

u 



114 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

stantly rising in the estimation of our people. He 
never ' wore out,' as many do. 

" With the schools he made himself famihar ; and all 
who were in them at that time were very fond of 
him. 

" But I may not enlarge. When he fell, I supposed 
he had not resigned ; but I have since learned that he 
had, — life and commission together. 

" He was earnest and devoted. He said to me, 
when talking of a place as hospital chaplain : ' If I 
cannot get a place where I can save my health, I will 
go back to my regiment, and die with them ; for I will 
sooner do it than quit the service of my country.' 

" Noble martyr to a noble cause ! Surely his coun- 
try should not permit his family to mourn, uncalled 
for." 




CHAPTER II 



BOSTON. 



" Thy converse drew us with delight, 
The men of rathe and riper years/ 
The feeble soul, a haunt of fears, 
Forgot his weakness in thy sight. 

** On thee the loyal-hearted hung, 

The proud was half disarmed of pride, 
Nor cared the serpent at thy side 
To flicker with his double tongue." 



TBinnrsow. 




UR pastor was installed in his new charge on 
the first day of June, 1853. His parish was 
in Boston, at the North End, — a location 
once the centre of fashionable residence. 
His dwelling was numbered 31, on Sheafe Street, 
near Copp's Hill. The latter is a swell of land oppo- 
site Charlestown. The British planted a battery there, 
•at the battle of Bunker Hill. It is an ancient place of 
burial, and contains the graves of many well-known 
Boston citizens ; of whom Cotton Mather may be 
named as one. 

His religious society was at a low ebb when he 
entered upon its ministry ; owing, in part, to a cause 
which might be counteracted, but not overcome. The 
native popuhition was constantly receding from that 
section of the city, and giving place in part to mercan- 
tile and manufacturing uccu})ati<>n, Ijiit mainly to resi- 



116 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

dents of a foreign birth and different religious persua- 
sion. This cause was constantly operating with a 
greatly increased momentum. Building up the re- 
ligious society, therefore, was like the stone of Sisy- 
phus, raised only by the constant application of supe- 
rior strength, and relapsing again the moment effort 
was intermitted. Members of the church and congre- 
gation were constantly caught away by the tide of 
population, and borne to southerly parts of the city ; 
while those from whom recruits could be hoped to sup- 
ply the broken ranks were, under the influence of the 
same law of change, departing also. 

It is not impossible to explain these changes in the 
focal centres of city residence, when they are once 
in motion, for the very force of the current, taking 
away those who were congenial and attractive, and 
substituting heterogeneous occupants, easily accounts 
for the continuance of a change in the character of 
population once begun. But what gave it the first im- 
pulse, how long it will continue in the channel it runs 
in at any given time, in what quarter it will set next, 
— these are questions as hard to solve as the causes 
and courses of ocean and atmospheric currents. As, 
in many regions, geology indicates a former inhabi- 
tancy far different from the present, so the local history 
of but a few generations in Boston designates spots, 
formerly the centres of wealth and influence which 
have since shifted to localities once little likely to be 
the magnets of such attraction. An instance of this 
may be found in the neighborhood of Fort Hill, a spot 
adapted by nature for pleasant residence, and not a 
great many years ago the court-end of Boston. But 



BOSTON. 117 

the inscrutable law of change led its Inhabitants to 
give place to the crowded occupation of the poor and 
humble. And now this population, in its turn, seems 
to be receding before the onward march of the granite 
blocks of commerce. 

Such was the field to which our pastor was now 
transferred ; induced, as he declares, by the unanimity 
and earnestness of the call tendered to him once and 
again, and even by " the very depression and urgent 
need " of the new pastorate ; and such was the ad- 
verse current against which he labored successfully, 
but with impossible permanence. 

The power of the pulpit was by no means his only 
instrument. His insight led hun to recognize the 
Sabbath school as the necessary means, not only of 
attracting the lambs to the fold, but the sheep also, by 
the strong though scarce appreciated influence which 
the rising generation exercise by the ties of love upon 
their adult kindred. He knew, too, the power of con- 
ference prayer in drawing down from the Source of 
every good and perfect gift the dews of Divine grace 
and the refreshings of the Holy Spirit. Meetings of 
this character were regularly held in his vestry. He 
says respecting them : * " I believe such meetings have 
been productive of much good, and would here warmly 
commend them as an instrumentality which you can- 
not too faithfully use or too carefully cherish. Let us 
return to the ancient usage of this society, and, as did 

* A Historical Discourse, delivered in the New North Church, October 
1,1864. By Arthur B. Fuu.kk. Boston: Crosby and Nichols. In this 
Discourse the interesting annals of the New North Church, from the time 
it was founded iu 1714, are briefly reviewed. 



118 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

its founders, meet often together for prayer and re- 
ligious converse ; and may God grant that attendance 
upon these meetings may soon become as general as 
attendance upon the sanctuary, and that they may be 
well sustained by those who are ready to testify to 
God's goodness, and seek to win souls to Christ ; that 
there may be many ready to address God in prayer, 
and to sing his praise. So shall he ' revive his work ' 
among us." 

He also reanimated a benevolent society in his par- 
ish, which continued in active and beneficent existence 
during his pastorate. And with its aid he founded a 
parish library. 

To fully understand the instrumentality which he 
put in operation for his labors in the Lord, we must 
not forget his faithful parochial visits. His love for 
the childi*en, and their love for him, welcomed him to 
the open portals of his people's dwellings. Wher- 
ever he went, we shall find the young attending upon 
his steps, — in the pastoral charge, and even upon the 
tented field. On his way from church they clustered 
around him, and he needed the arms of a Briareus to 
take them all in, or to lend a hand to each of the little 
ones who sought this token of fellowship and guidance 
betwixt the man and the child. Nor was he a re- 
specter of persons or conditions in his intercourse. He 
felt his Master's words, " Of such is the kingdom of 
heaven," and delighted to regard the unfolded capa- 
city, the unstained innocence of children ; while hope 
painted to him the bright possibility of their future, 
and love made him seek to draw them thus early to 
the only sui'e shelter from the storms of time and eter- 



BOSTON. 119 

nity, tlie ark of safety, Christ Jesus. The destitute 
children, too, wlio had been gathered into his Sabbath 
school from the highways and hedges, won the honor 
of the pastor's hand on the way from church. 

He had two good angels to help him in the home 
work of the pastor, — his mother and his wife. Both 
were earnest laborers with him in the Sabbath school ; 
both were unexceptionably beloved by the people. 
" His domestic life in Boston," writes one of his pa- 
rishioners, " seemed very delightful to him, and was 
especially pleasant to his people. The death of his 
wife was felt by his whole society almost as a per- 
sonal loss, so greatly had she endeared herself to all 
who knew her. His mother, who afterward cared 
for his household, was so wise and good, that I never 
saw or heard of any who did not revere her and prize 
her sympathy and counsel." Alas ! how little time 
has elapsed since we saw this trio in the Sheafe Street 
parsonage ; and yet centuries could not more effectu- 
ally have placed them in the unseen, irrevocable past 
than has been done by the course of a few fleeting 
yeavs. A picture of them recurs to memory, as they 
sang together a Methodist melody entitled " We are 
passing away," the wife leading at the piano, and 
the mother and son standing near. They were very 
fond of that expressive hymn, which accompanied each 
verse by the chorus, " We are })assing away," sung 
in a sad, dying strain, but immediately changing to a 
closing note of triumph, " Let us hail the glad day ! " 
Those blended voices have, at intervals but briefly 
removed, vanished from earth, and, we doubt not, 
they have in the raptures of heavenly song hailed, 



120 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

once again united, the glad day of eternity, to know 
no setting, to know no shadow upon its ever orient 
sun ! 

To promote the interests of the Sabbath school, 
which were at a low ebb, he organized an association 
of teachers, which " interested them in their work, 
and tended to their mutual acquaintance and improve- 
ment by regular gatherings for study and conversa- 
tion." * He also sought to encourage the children by 
picnics and by anniversary observances. Some of the 
Christmas and New- Year exercises of his Sabbath 
school filled the church with a pleased and attentive 
audience. 

He took a warm interest in the consecration of chil- 
dren. He did not regard it as a rite of mystic effi- 
cacy, nor as indicative of a union formed with Christ, 
which faith only can accomplish. But he valued it 
as giving the children up to God, as Abraham de- 
voted Isaac ; as s}Tnbolizing somewhat, like the Jew- 
ish rite of circumcision, the covenant blessings trans- 
mitted through parents ; but especially as a solemn 
recognition of the supreme Fatherhood of God, and 
his sovereign claim upon the children, accompanfed by 
the undertaking of the parents to bring them up in the 
nurture and admonition of the Lord. He believed, 
too, that the unconscious subject, though deriving 
fi'om it no mysterious influence, would in after life be 
led to regard it as a solemn pledge of the affection and 
consecration of his parents, and their desire and prayer 
to win for him Heaven's choicest influence. Thus nat- 
ural affection would give an impulse to religious aspi- 

* Letter of a parishioner. 



BOSTON. 121 

ration, and mingle the loved parent's voice, when per- 
haps hushed in the grave, with the whisperings of the 
Holy Spirit. 

Many a pleasant occasion did the pastor enjoy of 
the consecration of children, as well as of older per- 
sons. In his pleasant Sabbath-school picnics, they 
w^ere brought 'and came forward garlanded for tliis 
beautiful ceremony. 

He enforced the necessity of conversion, and held it 
up as the aim of Sabbath-school instruction. In a con- 
vention, he says : " The specific object of the teacher 
should be the conversion of the scholar. The human 
heart is a great battle-field. While religion is a most 
natural thing, it is supernatural. There is much in the 
heart that tends heavenward, but there is much that is 
grovelling. A conflict is continually going on, and it is 
the teacher's province to turn the scale. There is a 
time when the heart is changed. The conversion is 
often sudden and startling, like the tornado, and often- 
times almost imperceptible and gentle as the result of a 
mother's prayers, like the zephyr that follows the storm, 
causing the leaves to kiss each other, and the flowers 
to gently nod before the soft and noiseless wind. Chil- 
dren need to be told, like other people, to come to 
Christ. The natural heart of the child knows no more 
of God than it does of mathematics. Nicodemus was 
probably a kind man, with many excellent virtues ; yet 
the Saviour said he must be born again. Except a inan 
be born again, — these were the words, — and they 
applied to all men. He did not believe in calhng the 
infant a sinner, nor in original sin ; but there were 
tendencies in the child to depravity, to sin, and he 

6 



122 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

needed conversion. It was a dangerous doctrine to 
say that children did not need a change of heart." 

It was not, therefore, to keep, but to acquire, rehgious 
character, that he labored with children, that they 
might obtain Christ in the soul, who alone can pre- 
serve the innocence, simplicity, and guilelessness which 
characterize childhood ; and, by transmuting its lovely, 
spontaneous impulse into p-mciple, appropriated as the 
intelligent volition of a religious mind, furnish the 
young heart with a safeguard for virtue and a means 
to counteract and destroy the tares wdth which the 
busy adversary has left no heart unsown. Tliis was 
the belief which nerved the pastor's energies, to labor 
in season and out of season, to pray and not to faint, to 
seek to wreathe the lovely buds of childhood, which 
always attracted him in every condition of life, into 
the Saviour's garlanded crown. 

He earnestly pleaded the cause of the Sabbath 
school from the pulpit. In a sermon devoted to the 
subject, he says : " Well do I recollect an occasion 
when I exchanged wdth a brother of the Wesleyan 
Methodist connection, and, by his request, remained 
at the Sabbath school, which took place immediately 
after the morning services. When I had dismissed 
the congregation, I was astonished to find all but some 
fifteen or twenty, who were mostly casual attendants, 
remain to take places in the Sabbath school. The 
ages of the members of that school ranged from the 
child of five to a mother in Israel whose form was 
bowed by the burden of eighty years. The whole 
congregation w^ere engaged in the work. The old 
gave character to the school, the young life and viva- 



BOSTON. 123 

city. In some classes, eacli in turn became tlie teacher. 
The congregation was poor in temporal wealth, not a 
rich man in it. Many wondered how it lived, for there 
are no conference funds among the Wesleyans. But 
I did not wonder, after seeing the Sabbath school. 

'* In my judgment, the j)lan they pursued is the 
true one. Our Bible-classes ought to be thronged, 
and many younger classes gathered. The whole con- 
gregation should in some way, either as teachers or 
pupils, be members of the Sabbath school. It would 
be worth while even to dispense with the afternoon 
service, if this result could be secured." 

The pastor's varied labors were fruitful of good. 
An interesting instance of his mode of dealing with 
the youncr hearts of his charo-e, who souo-ht to follow 
the drawmgs of the crucified Saviour, and leave all to 
come to him, occurs to memory ; and we relate it, as 
illustrative of his treatment of a delicate subject. A 
young man unbosomed himself to him, relating his 
religious experience and his desire to unite himself 
with his newly found Saviour by a public profession. 
But his parents opposed it, and he was under age. 
The pastor counselled him, that it was no doubt his 
duty to leave father and mother for Christ's sake, if 
that should be necessary; but he should first try 
rather to win them to the Saviour, and bring them with 
him. The convert was their only, dearly-loved son, 
and they were without religion. They probably re- 
garded him as under the influence of a transient im- 
pression, and the pastor hoped, if they found he had a 
permanent desire to unite with the church, they would 
finally yield to the wishes in spiritual things of one 



124 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

tliey had ever indulged in the temporal. He therefore 
advised him to defer his public profession for some 
months, and see if the parents would not be persuaded 
to come round to his wishes. 

Such, indeed, was the result ; and better still! 
When the parents found their darling child had really 
permanently set his heart on uniting with Christ, they 
resolved to gratify him, and announced to him that 
they no longer opposed his wishes. Nor was this all. 
They had viewed religion in others as bigotry or ex- 
citement or unsoundness ; but what was this which, 
without any induction on their part, had obtained a 
hold upon their son ? It had not made him less ob- 
servant of their wishes, but more dutiful. It had 
blended with his amiable natural traits, and trans- 
figured them with a new glow and radiance. Might 
there not, then, be a reality in religion ? Thus they 
also were led to inquire the way of hfe, and ultimately 
followed their son in giving their hearts to the Saviour, 
and professing Christ before men. 

A prominent theological trait in our pastor's char- 
acter was a love for Christian union. Heads might 
differ on the most difficult problems submitted to the 
intellect ; inadequacies of language might further widen 
this variance, and often give it an apparent reality 
when it in fact existed only in a diversity of meaning 
attached to words ; but Christian hearts at least might 
agree and combine, and surely ought to do so, in- 
stead of turning the spiritual weapons given them to 
vanquish the world to the unhallowed purpose of inter- 
necme strife. Christian union, he believed, gauged 
truly Christian love, and indicated the completeness 



BOSTON. 125 

of the transformation of the natural heart to the like- 
ness of Him who breathed up among his last petitions 
the touching prayer that his disciples might be one, 
even as he and the Father were one. 

He liked not denominational shackles, and he in- 
duced his people in Boston to adopt a form of organiza- 
tion ; the first article of which reads as follows : — 

"Art. 1. The church connected with the New 
North Religious Society shall assume no sectarian 
name, desiring simply to be known as a branch of 
the Church of Jesus Christ." 

Afterward, when engaged in the duties of army 
chaplain, he was more than ever drawn in heart to 
desire the oneness of the followers of Christ; and 
he declared, if ever settled over another parish, it 
should be independent. 

His preacning was principally practical, seeking to 
bring home the Gospel to the soul, and to induct it 
through all the channels of spiritual and secular life. 
So far as was requisite to this, he preached upon doc- 
trines boldly and distinctly, yet deahng kindly with 
those who differed from him. He sought to distin- 
guish the good ingredient in each extreme, while him- 
self pursuing the golden mean, as if he made his motto, 
Medio tutissimus ibis. He thought lightly of the badges 
of sect. He thus writes, in reference to a clergyman 
who had left the Unitarian body : " Let each man 
find his true place in the army of Christ, where his 
sympathies and convictions lead him ; and, in what- 
ever regiment he fights, if he is a soldier of Jesus, he 
has my God-speed." 

He would by no means consent that the dominion 



126 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

of religion should be abridged, or tlie sceptre of the 
Almighty Sovereign excluded from any sphere of pub- 
lic or private life. Especially did he regard politics as 
the right domain of religion. Where the government 
is intrusted to one ruler, his religious training in re- 
gard to his high public responsibilities is admitted to 
be an essential safeguard of his justice and virtue and 
permanence of authority. And where the sceptre is 
intrusted to the people, the same rule must apply with 
a force by no means dimmished. He insisted upon 
the discharge of his sacred trust in this respect in his 
new position. 

In a published discourse, entitled " Our Dangers as 
a Republic, and Duties as Citizens," the pastor defines 
his views of political ethics. " I envy no man," he 

says, " in whose bosom is no glow of patriotism 

It is an unholy and dangerous divorce, a sundering 
of things joined by God, which separates rehgion from 
patriotism. Christian principle fr'om political action. 
Our fathers ventured not into the struggle till they 
had bent reverently within consecrated walls. I can- 
not too strongly enjoin the necessity of personal religion. 
He who enters the arena of pohtics without it, goes 
to the battle unarmed. 

" Every American citizen should be the uncompro- 
mising advocate of liberty throughout the land. Let 
us soon and ever justly be able to say of our beloved 
country, as Curran proudly says of him who takes 
refiicre in Britain, 'No matter in what lano^uao;e his 
doom may have been pronounced, no matter what com- 
plexion an Indian or African sun may have burned 
upon him, no matter in what disastrous battle his liber- 



BOSTON. 127 

ties may liave been cloven down, no matter with what 
solemnities he may have been devoted on the altar of 
slavery, — the first moment he touches the sacred soil of 
Britain, the altar and the god sink together into the 
dust, his soul walks abroad in his own majesty, his body 
swells beyond the measure of his chains, that burst 
from around him, and he stands forth redeemed, re- 
generated, and disenthralled by the irresistible genius 
of universal emancipation.' " * 

The pastor did not doff the robe of office to make 
stump-speeches, and in the pulpit he was no party 
advocate. He had some warm friends in the congre- 
gation who were entirely opposed to him in political 
life, who yet declared they honored his independence, 
and liked to hear him speak his mind ; and when he 
was nominated for political station, some opponents 
voted for him, as a tribute to the man. In this con- 
nection it may be pertinent to state, that in 1857 he 
was nominated, by the Republicans of Suffolk District 
Number Two,' for the Massachusetts Senate ; but, with 
the other candidates of his party in that district, he 
failed of an election. 

The pastor was a careful student of public events, 
and failed not to point out their moral in his discourses. 
When the sad news of Daniel Webster's death was 
announced, he expatiated upon it from the pulpit. 

* While boasting Britain secretly leans towards the side of slavery in the 
American rebellion, this celebrated quotation cannot be too familiarly cited, 
in order to call a blush to the cheeks of the Empress of the sea. In 
America, too, it should never be reckoned trite, till it becomes true of our 
own liberated soil. Till then, we may pay of it. as a clergyman replied 
to one finding fault with his repeating a sermon, " I ought to preach it till 
you practise it." 



128 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

" On this calm Sabbath morn," said the preacher, 
" he who had lived amid the conflicts of the forum and 
debate in national assemblies, the thunders of whose 
eloquence had been hurled against those who opposed 
what he deemed the country's welfare, — Tie rests from 
his labors ; he on this quiet morning lies cold and 
passionless as the lifeless marble ! Forgetful of all po- 
htical differences, a nation is shedding, and will con- 
tinue to let fall, tears of regret for this sad event. 
Every noble heart to-day will throb with sympathy 
and solemn sadness. 

" One after another the brightest jewels have been 
plucked from our nation's crown by the ruthless hand 
of death. Last of all, he has now fallen whose heart, 
whose mind, in its wondrous grandeur, was American 
in its every pulsation, its every thought. Differ from 
him as some of us have honestly done, all that is for- 
gotten at his grave ; and we mourn together. Never 
more shall we meet the gaze of his cavernous eyes, in 
whose depths we seem to look upon his mighty intel- 
lect. Never more shall Faneuil Hall be filled with 
that deep, sonorous voice, whose every tone was full of 
meaning. Never more shall a listening senate hang 
breathless on his word. No more shall his utterances 
flash like lightning across the continent, while the Aus- 
trian despot trembles at his pleas for Hungarian free- 
dom. 

" Daniel Webster is dead ; and even in the house 
of God we sit in solemn sadness at the thought, and 
say, Alas ! our country ! Yet, my fi^iends ; it cannot 
be that such a mind, such a spirit, should die ! God 
is not so prodigal of mind and spirit as to strike out 



BOSTON. 129 

such from the circle of being. They must be immor- 
tal as He from whom they came. It is only the 
body which lies cold and lifeless ; the soul can never 
die. Thank God that in his last moments he uttered 
imperishable words of faith in immortality, and faith in 
the Bible, and that among his last words were those 
of prayer. O ye who revere his memory, let that les- 
son of faith sink into your hearts ! The great, the 
mighty, must die ; but they shall live again I It is not 
ours to judge of their faults, but rather to learn from 
whatever was good in their example ; while we are 
reminded that the body dies, but the soul lives for- 
ever, and yet forever ! " 

In the cause of temperance the pastor labored on, 
both in the pulpit and out of it. In 1858 he was 
chosen by the State Temperance Convention a mem- 
ber of the Executive Committee, and in the same year 
was elected a director of the Washingtonian Home, 
better known as the Home for the Fallen. 

He loved these enterprises, not merely for the main 
object, but for the incidental result of bringing men of 
different callings and religious persuasions into friendly 
nearness. In an address to the Sons of Temperance, 
he asks, " Has the order accomplished nothing, if it 
unites men of different denominational names on this 
platform of philanthropy ? " 

In the Home for the Fallen, too, he took a warm 
interest, on account of its benefits conferred on the 
class to whom it was devoted, and the genial influence 
which co-operation in benevolence has upon the philan- 
thropist. " He liked the institution," he said, at one 
of its public meetings, " because it was not sectarian, 
6* • I 



130 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

because of its broad principle, and because it was not 
adapted to any nationality, but to those of all nations 
and climes." 

After the Maine Law had become a Massachusetts 
statute, he appeared before the Mayor and Aldermen of 
Boston to advocate a petition for its enforcement, which 
had been subscribed by clerg}^men of all denomma- 
tions, and, among other signers, by eighteen hundred 
and sixty w^omen. He alluded to the rendition of 
Burns, the fugitive slave, which the city government 
had aided m, alleging that they must sustain the law, 
though contrary to their own convictions. He urged 
them to prove the sincerity of that allegation, by a like 
scrupulous loyalty in enforcing the Maine Law. The 
city authorities took no action. But such efforts are 
never lost, and ultimately result in good, even after 
they have been forgotten. 

We find the pastor in Boston, as elsewhere, faith- 
fully laboring as a member of the public-school com- 
mittee. Nor did he forget the cause of popular educa- 
tion in the pulpit. When a sacrilegious hand was 
stretched forth to withdraw the Bible from the public 
schools, it led him, as well as others of the clergy, to 
an earnest protest from the sacred desk. " No ques- 
tion," he said, in the language reported in the public 
press, " had ever arisen of so vast importance in our 
midst ; and the discipline, the usefulness, the per- 
petuity of that system which our fathers established, 
w^ere hanging in the balance. We needed to keep the 
Bible in the schools to prevent our land from becoming 
a land like France or Spain, or other countries where 
the Bible was set at naught. Knowledge without 



BOSTON. 131 

morality was power, but it was power for evil ; and 
whence could we draw higher morality than from the 
Bible, to guide and strengthen knowledge ? " 

We find him, too, speaking before the New England 
Female Medical College, in terms approving of that 
enterprise. On the important subject of woman's 
rights he often expressed himself. We cite as a speci- 
men his ideal of womanhood, delineated in a published 
discourse, occasioned by the death of Mrs. Louisa So- 
phia Swan. 

" This ideal simply demands for woman the right to 
do all she can do well ; considers that her true sphere 
for which organization and capacity adapt her ; recog- 
nizes her neither as man's handmaid and servant, nor 
idol and superior, but his helper and equal. With this 
class, woman's rights and woman's duties are synony- 
mous. Home, it believes, from her very constitution, 
the law of God, written in lines of sinew and vein and 
bone and the very texture of her being, home will 
ever be her chief sphere of action ; but whenever a 
Joan of Arc leads her countrymen to victory and to 
freedom ; whenever a Florence Nightingale makes of 
the hospital of the Crimea a scene of angel ministry to 
the wounded ; whenever a Grace Darling saves life 
by daring almost more than manly ; or a Mrs. Patten 
guides her dying husband's ship safely into port, her- 
self its commander ; or a Mrs. Stowe writes the tale 
of suffering beneath the foul oppression of slavery ; 
or, in the strife for Italian liberty, a woman in im- 
mortal Rome does immortal deeds of beneficence, 
watching over the helpless Roman soldiery when 
they were dying in the hospitals, and dying, as did 



132 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

some Americans of old, for human rights and dear 
liberty ; * — then to all these, and such as these, those 
who accept the ideal of Jesus, utter the plaudit, ' Well 
done,' and declare that these women have not for- 
gotten their sex, have not departed from its duties, 
but have nobly fulfilled them all, and are truly wo- 
manly women. 

" My friends, for one, I rejoice that a greater than 
Solomon taught us by his word, yet more by his ex- 
ample, what should be the rank and sphere of woman ; 
that she should not be man's vassal, and say, as Milton 
represents Eve to say, — 

' What thou bid'st, 
Unargued I obey; so God ordains; 
God is thy law ! thou mine ; to know no more 
Is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise.' 

And yet more, I rejoice that he rejected the sad, awfiil 
view which regards woman as the mere toy of man's 
idler hours ; to be loved only when young and fair, 
and then neglected ; to be flattered, but not truly rev- 
erenced, and at last to find in him the careless hus- 
band, the forgetful reveller. Ah, thank God, 

* The days are no more, 
When she watched for her lord till the revel was o'er, 
And stilled her sad sorrow, and blushed when he came, 
As she pressed her cold lips on his forehead of flame. 
Alas for the loved one ! too spotless and fair 
The joys of his banquet to chasten and share; 
Her eye lost its light that his goblet might shine, . 
And the rose on her cheek was dissolved in his wine.' " 

When the great refreshing from the Lord, in 1857, 
swept over the community with wondrous power, it 

♦ Referring to his sister Margaret. 



BOSTON. 133 

found our pastor a servant girded for the work. 
While he deprecated a superficial, ilhisory excitement, 
and especially artificial contrivances to forward that 
which the Spirit of God can alone accomplish, he 
earnestly approved and rejoiced to labor for a deep 
spiritual work of grace. That gi'eat revival attested 
the presence and commission of the Messiah as much 
as, if not more than, his miracles in the flesh. One of 
its most melting and beautiful effects was manifested in 
bringing together pastors of all denominations. One 
meeting in every week was especially for them, as 
brother prophets to bow together at the throne of 
grace, and with thanksgiving supphcate the continued 
prosperity of the Divine work. Pastors spoke in mis- 
cellaneous assemblies, where sect was forgotten in the 
presence of the great Head of every true church. 
Christians were astonished to learn here that members 
of other denominations were moved by the Holy Spirit 
to the same heavenly affections and desires as their 
own. " If that be Unitarianism," said one of another 
sect, after listening to our pastor on such an occasion, 
" I would be a Unitarian." He sought to have thanks- 
giving mingle with the supplications of the prayer- 
meeting. He wished it remembered " that praise is 
an important element of prayer. We did not want 
always to be in sackcloth and ashes, but to remember 
the Feather's loving arms spread out to embrace his 
children. There was infinite love behind the clouds 
of earth. Let us think of that. In our Pentecostal 
season, let us rejoice in the love of God, the cheering 
symbol of which shines in the unclouded heavens 
to-day ! " 



134 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

One of the grateful incidents in our pastor's toil 
was the warm friends he acquired. Few were more 
fortunate than he in making "friends indeed" ; those 
who do not waver nor slacken in their regard, and 
who, once gained, are lasting. One of them perhaps 
famishes the key to this good fortune in characteristics 
of our pastor, which he thus describes : " He was 
always so genial and hearty, so glad to meet his friends. 
There was never anything cold or indifferent about 
him, no doubtful reserve to make you question your 
welcome. So, Avhen I heard him preach, besides the 
satisfaction of hearing a faithful word feelingly spoken, 
I had a pleasure in the voice of a warm-hearted, ear- 
nest friend, who was sure, after the service, to give 
me a cordial greeting, more refreshing and comforting 
to me than the best sermon." His friendships were 
not confined to his own parish nor his own denomina- 
tion. As a happy instance of this, we may refer to 
the kindly relation which subsisted between him and 
the Rev. Rollin H. Neale, D. D., of the Baptist denom- 
ination ; and we are glad to insert here a communica- 
tion we have been favored with from that eminent 
Christian pastor. 

" I cheerfully comply with your request to furnish 
some personal reminiscences of youi' brother. It so 
happened that I was present at his installation in Bos- 
ton. Wishing to hear the addresses of the gentlemen 
who were announced to speak on that occasion, espe- 
cially the sermon of Rev. Dr. Peabody, now of Cam- 
bridge, I had the pleasure of seeing him as he first 
entered upon his ministry in this city. Our personal 
acquaintance, however, did not begin until some time 



BOSTON. 135 

afterwards. I frequently heard reports of his earnest- 
ness as a pr(?acher. Members of other denominations, 
intending of course to pay him a compUment, said that 
he was strictly evangelical, and preached the Gospel. 
He became known as an advocate of temperance, a 
friend of the poor and the outcast, and, indeed, was 
prominent (though with no spirit of bitterness) in 
favor of every moral reform. 

" My personal acquaintance with him began in a 
way that proved to be of much interest to myself, and 
which I regarded as quite a favoring Providence. I 
had been appointed to preach the Dudleian Lecture, 
which that year was to be on the subject of Romanism. 
I had thought of various ways of treating it, all of 
which were unsatisfactory. ' I had taken up and re- 
jected one theme after another, until I was quite in a 
fever of anxiety as the time for fulfilling the appoint- 
ment drew nigh. I reluctantly accepted an invita- 
tion to an evening party. Your brother was present. 
In the course of conversation, I said in pleasantry: 
* Mr. Fuller, I see by the newspaper advertisements 
that you are delivering a series of lectures against the 
Orthodox ; I hope you will not be hard upon us.' 
.' O no,' said he, 'I am only telling how much good 
there is in you. I see a great deal of truth in all 
churches, and in all doctrines, — the doctrine of the 
atonement, the doctrine of regeneration, and of the 
Trinity. And I only try to bring out what is good 
and true, and leave the false and the corrupt to take 
care of itself.' He went on in the same strain for 
I know not how long. I looked at him, very re- 
spectfully of course, but became somewhat absent- 



136 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

minded. ' Is not this,' I thought, ' the true way to 
deal with Romanism ? ' And before the interview was 
ended, I had got my theme and the plan pretty much 
worked out : ' The Elements of Truth in the Romish 
Church.' I explained to him afterwards how much 
relief this incidental conversation had given me, and 
how much aid I had thus received in preparing for a 
dreaded occasion. From this time our friendship be- 
came intimate and unreserved. He was perfectly open 
and frank in the expression of his sentiments, never 
seeking to conciliate favor by compromise or conceal- 
ment of his own views ; but he was not inclined to 
controversy or to a negative faith. The things which 
most impressed him, both in morals and religion, and 
which, therefore, were most prominent in his conversa- 
tion, were such as would, with men and Christians 
generally, find a ready assent. Hence, without seek- 
ing for popularity, he was universally beloved. I 
never heard any one speak to his disparagement. 
This is the more remarkable, as his preaching and pub- 
lic addresses were never of the milk-and-water stamp. 
He was so obviously sincere, so honest, and withal had 
such a fund of good-nature, that it was impossible, even 
for those whose conduct came under his severest 
denunciations, to speak or think ill of him. When I 
heard of his appointment as an army chaplain, my first 
thought was, ' That is the right man for the right 
place. He will love the soldiers, and they will love 
him.' And so it has proved. No church Avas ever 
more attached to a pastor, no affectionate children 
more closely bound to a loving father, than the mem- 
bers of the Sixteenth Regiment were to him. He was 



BOSTON. 137 

with them in their frequent and tedious marches, with 
them in the niglit-watches, with them in the hour of 
sickness and sorrow, and with them on the field of 
battle and of death. His published letters from the 
army are exceedingly characteristic. Breathing the 
spirit of unaffected piety, there is no moroseness. You 
see him everywhere, and at all times, active, cheerful, 
and full of life and hope. 

*' I met him in Boston a short time before his 
death. He had been sick, but was anxious to hasten 
back to the field of duty. I wanted him to speak at a 
public meeting, but remarked about his unministerial- 
looking costume. ' O,' said he, ' I have to rough it, 
and di'ess accordingly.' He spoke at several of the^ 
religious anniversaries with more than his usual enthu- 
siasm and patriotic ardor. 

" When I heard of his death, my heart sank within 
me. I thought of his wife and children, of the soldiers 
whom he loved so well, of you, my dear sir, his 
brother, and of my own personal bereavement. But 
of these private griefs I will not speak. I am glad 
tiiat you are preparing a biography. The best me- 
morial of him, however, is that which he has written 
himself, and which will long live in the hearts, and I 
trust in the improved characters, of those who knew 
him." 

We have thus briefly glanced at six laborious years 
of our pastor in connection with the New North Church 
in Boston. All earthly relations, longer or shorter, 
must cease ; and his Boston pastorate was now brought 
to a close. He found his strength unequal to cope 
longer with the adverse current, expending upon it a 



138 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

toil which could not there obtain any lasting success, 
and he sent in his resignation, having resolved to 
accept a call extended to him by a society in Water- 
town, Massachusetts. His society in Boston parted 
from him with regret, and some three years afterward, 
having settled no other pastor, sold their house of 
worship. 

The public press appropriately noticed his resigna- 
tion. One paper says : " His sympathies have ever 
been with the people, and his labors, unremitting and 
constant, have ever been for the people, and conse- 
quently the PEOPLE have loved him." Another re- 
marks : " He has overtasked his strength, and needs a 
respite from hard work. He will be a loss to Boston, 
and particularly to that section of it wherein he has 
devotedly labored. The time is near at hand when 
the Protestant churches at the North End must seek 
some other spot, if they would perpetuate their exist- 
ence." 

Another paper reports him as sapng, m his farewell 
discourse, that " he had preached life more than doc- 
trine. He had preached against sin, especially against 
slavery ; and he thanked God that he had done so. 
He spoke strongly and unequivocally when our noble 
Senator fell beneath a dastardly blow. He spoke with 
severity against the repeal of the Missouri compromise 
and against every aggression of the slave power. He 
had spoken freely against individual and national sins, 
but never as a partisan. He had denounced intem- 
perance and the supineness of the city authorities. 
But, most of all, he had preached repentance, regen- 
eration, holiness, charity, and active benevolence. 



BOSTON. 139 

" He recrretted that their evening meetings had not 
generally been successful. He was persuaded that his 
parishioners entertained love for him. His own for 
them was deep and fervent, and would only cease with 
life. 

" He glanced at the progress of the church since his 
connection with it. Their debts had been consolidated 
and lessened, and no longer embarrassed them, and he 
left them with money m their treasury. Their house 
had been remodelled. Their church-membership had 
increased fivefold, and their Sabbath school three- 
fold." 

The very day on which this farewell discourse was 
pronounced, the pastor's mother entered on her ever- 
lasting rest. He knew not the event was so near, 
though he refers perhaps to her critical sickness, when 
he alludes in the sermon to the many seasons of sor- 
row he has attended, and adds, " Voice after voice, 
dear to my ear, has died away, and others will soon be 
hushed in death." He had lost his wife three years 
before, and perhaps from being deprived of the home 
which had been so dear to him, and afforded him such 
genial refreshment in his toil, he felt the less able to 
continue his pastoral labors, in a scene, too, which 
always reminded him of what he had lost. 

In the next (Chapter we propose to take a more inte- 
rior and famihar view of his Boston life ; and, mean- 
time, we close this with the followino- tribute from a 
valued parishioner. 

" It was his custom," he says, " at one time, dur- 
ing a prevalent re\4val in Boston, to hold daily after- 
noon and evening prayer-meetings, in which all were 



140 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

invited to participate, without regard to doctrinal 
views. On an occasion, when the various denomi- 
nations blended with pecuhar harmony and cordial- 
ity, one of the congregation stiTick up ' The morn- 
ing light is breaking ' ; and it was never sung with 
a greater zest or livelier feeling of common broth- 
erhood. His congregation was at one time so large 
that the aisles of the church were temporarily ftir- 
nished with extra seats. 

" The sad intelligence of his death, on that mourn- 
ful Sabbath, caused more than one heart to throb pain- 
fully as they realized that a friend had gone, that a 
noble soul had, in the impulsiveness of a heroic nature, 
and at what he considered the imperative demand of 
duty, which appeared to be his guiding star through 
life and his watchword in death, passed from the 
Chui'ch militant to the Church triumphant." 



CHAPTER III. 



EPISODES. 




" Tears of the widower, when he sees 
A late lost form that sleep reveals, 
And moves his doubtful arms and feela 
Her place is empty." 

" Dearest sister ! thou hast left us ! 
Here thy loss we deeply feel." 

" He passed 5 a soul of nobler tone : 
My spirit loved and loves him yet." 

" My mother ! when I learned that thou wast dead, 
Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ? " 

MONG the extra-parochial labors of our pas- 
tor was the issuing a new edition of the 
works of his sister Margaret. She left a 
large quantity of manuscript, which the 
pressure of her occupations and the frailty of her 
health had not permitted her to put into book form. 
This task was now achieved by her brother, partly as 
supplemental to books already published, and also in 
a new volume entitled Life Without and Life Within, 
The first book he issued in this way was Woman in 
the Nineteenth Century. He writes in reference to it : 
"I have done my best and hardest work on this book.' 
The labor of compiling and superintending such a pub- 
lication and correcting the proof is greater than I 
could have conceived possible. It is done, and I thank 



142 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

God for giving me strength to do it. I pray that it 
may contribute to do justice to her merits. That is 
all the reward I can expect, and that reward would be 
so noble, so holy ! " 

The profits from the sale of her memoirs and works 
were applied to paying her honorary debts, which she 
had contracted with friends, on a fair understanding 
of her present and probable future inability to repay, 
and which her family ultimately had the satisfaction to 
cancel from the posthumous fniits of her character 
displayed in her memoirs and her writings edited by 
her brother Arthur. He had the satisfaction at last 
to announce : " Margaret's debts are all paid, every 
dollar ! That sacred trust to us is now fulfilled." 

In his private correspondence, he frequently alludes 
to these books. " I think," he says, refemng to the 
first named, " it has something adapted to every ca- 
pacity. The story of " Aglauron and Laurie" must 
interest the most careless reader, and the letters will 
arrest the attention of the most hurried, while the 
Woman in the Nineteenth Century meets the wants of 
the profound thinker." 

Again he writes in relation to his editorial toil : 
" This has been a labor of love, which I have joyed in, 
and have esteemed a privilege, and not a burden. If 
I only live to send forth Margaret's works from the 
press, as they should appear, I shall not have lived 
wholly in vain." He says in another letter: "One 
of the things for which I have labored most in these 
latter years, and wish to complete before going hence 
to be seen no more on earth, is the erection of suit- 
able memorials to Margaret's memory. These are 



EPISODES. 143 

not to be the cold and passionless marble only, but vol- 
umes of her warm and earnest thoughts, so high and 
so noble ! " 

The reverential affection which he gratefully cher- 
ished for this sister led him also earnestly to co-operate 
with his mother in adorning the family resting-place in 
the Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge. This 
had been a favorite resort of Margaret ; here she 
loved to walk and meditate. And here the mother 
had purchased a spot, comprising several lots, for her 
cenotaph and monument, the commemoration also of 
her gallant husband, and the last resting-place of her 
little Angelo. To this spot, too, the bones of the never- 
forgotten father were removed, and suitably commemo- 
rated. And here bloomed the fair and cherished favor- 
ites of the mother, whose flowery tongues told the tale 
of aflliction, faith, and love, while they breathed up the 
aromatic tribute of devoted memory. The lot is situ- 
ated upon Pyrola Path, not far from the tower. 

Alas ! death soon gathered into this green garner 
other forms, cut off in the bloom of life. In 1856 he 
Avas fatally busy with the pastor's household and kin- 
dred. He opened the year by removing a young wife 
and mother from the bosom of Richard's family ; and 
before the year's close, two who had mourned for her 
were laid in the same resting-place, — the pastor's wife 
and sister. 

It was the fourth day of March when his wife was 
suddenly snatched from the family circle, leaving an 
infant but a few weeks old. In reference to this 
event, he writes : " It is God who alone can speak to 
me words of comfort ; and through the Holy Spirit he 



144 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

does so. Much as I mourn, I am sustained.'* Nor 
was he wanting, too, in the balm of human consolation 
poui'ed into the wound by near friends, and by a people 
who tenderly sympathized with him. His parish not 
only took upon themselves the funeral obsequies, beau- 
tifully performed in the church and burial-place, but 
they passed a kmdly vote of condolence, with some 
weeks' leave of absence. 

In September of that year, his sister, Mrs. Ellen 
Channmg, died in a decline. The flame of her spirit 
burned with increased brilhancy in the hectic of her 
cheek and m the- eye's seraphic radiance, just before it 
was caught up, to burn with the Hghts above. 

Hers were the bright brow and the ringlet hair, 
The mind, that ever dwelt i' the pure ideal ; 
Herself a fairer figure of the real 

Than those the plastic fancy moulds of air. 

The sorrows of the pastor led him to seek occasion- 
ally a change of scene. But he never wished to inter- 
mit his labors in the Lord ; and we still find him advo- 
cating the loved cause of his Master. He made two 
visits to Judge Nahum Ward, at Marietta, Ohio, 
From this place he writes : " I am pleasantly situated 
here. I have everything needful for my comfort, and 
enjoy the beautiful scenery. Marietta is the most 
ancient place in Ohio. It was settled in 1788, by 
mhabitants of New England, and retains all its early 
characteristics. It is indeed more of a New England 
than Western place. Mr. Ward is a grandson of Gen- 
eral Artemas Ward of the American Revolution, and is 
a noble, generous-hearted man, preserving also great 
energy and a fine rehgious character* As proof of his 



EPISODES. 145 

generosity and Christian zeal, he has built a church 
here, the handsomest, if not most costly, in the State, 
and all at his own expense ; and now he will pay the 
minister's salary, and that generously, certainly for a 
time. I find him a very intelligent companion, abound- 
ing in reminiscences of his journeyings and adventures 
in his early days. Lafayette visited him when in this 
country, and presented him with a cane, on which he 
had often leaned when in the Austrian dungeon at 
Olumtz. Mr. Ward has travelled widely in Europe, 
and seen there many celebrated men." 

Our pastor was the first preacher in this newly- 
erected church, and had the satisfaction to found the 
Sabbath school there, which remembered him after his 
death. 

He frequently gave the public an account of his 
journeys, through the medium of newspaper corre- 
spondence. He thus speaks of Trenton Falls : " That 
deep ravine worn through the solid rock, that river of 
amber water, assuming every shape of grandeur and 
beauty, now scatters pearls in torrents, and now reposes 
in a deep basin, whose dark depths reflect the arbor- 
vitoB trees, and fair flowers fi'inging its banks and 
stooping down to kiss the sparkling waters. Who 
could beliold all this without a thought of that river 
of life, whose v/aters are clear as crystal, which wan- 
ders through scenes yet more resplendent with glory, 
and whose banks are adorned by the tree of life, of 
which tlie arbor- vitae is an emblem, and flowers that 
never fade ? " 

He gives an account of a lady preacher who offi- 
ciated, on the Sabbath, at Trenton village. ^* A rude 



146 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

platform," he says, " had been erected ; but it looked 
finely, decorated with oak-wreaths and adorned with 
flowers. The meeting was toward evening, when the 
glare of the sunlight is over, and only the shimmer of 
light among the leaves is noted. The preacher, taste- 
fully dressed in white, was evidently a modest, unpre- 
tending woman. We had some fear lest her w^ords 
should mar, rather than aid the effect of the occasion, 
but were happily disappointed. Her quiet manner, 
clear articulation, and purity, even holiness of look and 
word, were in unison with the scene and the hour. 
Her text was from Psalms, ' Your heart shall live 
forever.' She aimed to exhibit the undying nature 
of human affection, and to prove therefrom both the 
immortality of the soul and also the immortality of 
those pure friendships, domestic ties, and holy relations 
which, on earth, make almost heaven in our homes 
and hearts. The sermon did not exhibit much origi- 
nality or power of thought; yet its purity of tone, 
earnestness of appeal, and fervent sincerity commended 
it both to the heart and judgment of the hearers, while 
her modest bearing disarmed any prejudice against 
her as a woman seeMng to be a public teacher. Her 
intonation and articulation were almost faultless." 

From Trenton he proceeds to Niagara, of which he 
writes : — 

" This magnificent scene grows upon the mind 
and heart every hour. One may be soon satisfied at 
other places; but here the old feeling and request 
comes up, ' Master, it is good for us to be here ! ' Let 
us build tabernacles, and abide till the death hour ; 
yea ! be buried on these banks, and let this mighty 



EPISODES. 147 

organ-pipe chant our requiem, while the rainbows 
which span the falls by day, and no less on each moon- 
light night, speak auguries of hope and heavenly glory 
to the departed soul. 

"But who can describe Niagara ? What voice, save 
its own mighty one, can speak its charms ; what pen 
but that of inspiration could write adequately of its 
glories ? I think, in a reverent mind the all-absorbing 
feeling is, that God is here ; this is his temple ; he is 
speaking ; and when the Lord is in his holy temple, and 
speaks to man, let all the earth keep silence before him!^' 

He sought recreation, too, on the White Hills, in 
New Hampshire. "Here I am," he writes, ." pay- 
ing a visit to the ' Old Man of the Mountain.' This 
locality is grand and beautiful beyond my conception. 
' Echo Lake ' deserves its name, repeating some 
twenty times the cannon's loud report, and returning 
the notes of the bugle as if a band of music were in 
full play. To-morrow I go to the Flume, where my 
friend, Mr. Smith, was stnick dead. The scene will 
be mournful, yet attractive too. How much beauty 
there often is, even in sadness ; as these mountains 
sometimes look most beautiful when veiled in clouds, 
from which the rainy tear-drops are falling." 

The mountain beauties roused his devotional heart 
to make a Bethel of the place, and raise his voice in 
exposition of the grand language of Nature. " We 
had a sermon," says a correspondent of the press, 
writing from the mountains, " from the Rev. Mr. 
Fuller, of Boston, which I scarcely ever heard sur- 
passed. In speaking of the mountains, he traced the 
hand of God in every waterfall and every rock ; every- 



148 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

thing which he had seen had talked to him of his 
Maker." 

In his journeyings, the pastor often turned aside 
from the habitations of the Hving to meditate in "the 
village of the dead." His repeated bereavements led 
him to think much of death, but never with gloom. 
He regarded it as the portal of glory for those who 
sleep in Christ, on whose solemn threshold he loved to 
muse. His faith was entire. He said he could say of 
his trust, "I know that my Redeemer hveth." He 
did not wear the mourning weed for his friends ; and 
he always wished the light of faith to relieve the 
shadow of natural grief in the funeral obsequies of the 
Christian. To him cemeteries were eloquent with life- 
lessons tauD;ht in the memorials of death. He was 
thus led to trace thoughtfully the time-worn inscrip- 
tion, and he published many accounts of cemeteries. 
Among these may be mentioned descriptions of the 
burial-places of Quincy, "Waltham, and Newton. He 
has given an account, too, of the solemn prairie cem- 
etery, seeming in the vast emerald reach of the hori- 
zon like burial at sea. 

The little graves had for him a voice of peculiar 
pathos^ yet of glad faith and hope. On this theme he 
says : " How beautiful, though sad, is death in child- 
hood ! Beautiful, for it is only death in semblance, 
and in reality the beginning of a painless, joyous life ! 
Beautiful, because with the death of that infant form, 
all tendency of disease whether in soul or body, all 
fear of becoming a sinner, all temptation, all grief, 
have to that soul died. I never feel surer of immor- 
tahty, than when looking upon such a casket, from 



EPISODES. 149 

which the angel we call Death has removed the jewel. 
There viust be a land wliere tliat bud shall unfold, 
those undeveloped capacities be expanded, those un- 
tried powers put forth, and the end of such a creation 
answered. This life were a sad, a vexing problem — 
yes, and a wretched boon to man — were not another 
and a better life attainable beyond it. The future 
must be the interpreter of the present, its compensa- 
tion too." 

During the period of which we are now treating, our 
pastor was twice elected a chaplain in the legislature 
of Massachusetts, — in 1854, of the House of Repre- 
sentatives, and in 1858, of the Senate. It happens 
that one of his prayers in the legislative body was 
transcribed, and Ave insert it here as a specimen of the 
brief and comprehensive supplication, which he thought 
best adapted to such an occasion. 

" O wise and beneficent Being, who dwellest in 
light ineffable, unseen by physical sense, but visible to 
the eye of faith ! we approach thee now with fihal 
confidence and trust ! 

" Earnestly do we covet the best gifts, — that faith 
which can remove mountains of obstacles from our 
pathway, that charity which sufFereth long and is kind, 
that love which worships God by serving and helping 
our brother man, that hope which is an anchor to the 
soul amid all life's storms ! 

"O Lord! help us really to live, — not merely to 
exist and to while away our passing hours, but to live 
in deeds more than years, live in high thoughts, pure 
emotions, lofty desires ! O Heavenly Father ! how 
many of those who think they live are really dead, — 



150 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

dead in trespasses and sins, dead in all but the animal 
nature ; whilst many whom the world calls dead yet 
truly live, yet speak to us, think for us, and influence 
us, by their deathless thoughts, immortal deeds and 
memories ! Help us to live much, even in few years ; 
and if, when we perish as to the body, tlie silvered locks 
and furrowed brow be not ours, yet may our time have 
been long, because useful, our death not premature, 
because we had early accomplished life's great end ! 

" And Thine shall be the praise forever. Amen I " 

We have been favored with a note from Colonel 
Robert I. Burbank, a gentleman favorably known in 
the legislature and forum. Having been a contem- 
porary member of the House, he thus speaks of Chap- 
lain Fuller. 

" I take very great pleasure in stating, that during 
the whole session his punctuality, his urbane and 
genial manners, his patriotism, his fervency in prayer, 
and his Christian spirit and devotion, were the theme 
of universal admiration. 

"I remember well to have noted, and frequently 
at the close of the session to have heard it said, that so 
appropriate had been his language, that from no words 
of his could be inferred his political or denominational 
sentiments. 

" He was exceedingly beloved by us all. His zeal in 
the fitting discharge of his duties then was only the 
offspring of those noble quahties of heart and soul 
wdiich impelled him, near the close of his useful ca- 
reer, to deeds of prowess, which have immortalized 
his memory." 

The summer joumeyings of our pastor were the 



EPISODES. 151 

occasion of pleasant family letters, which blended the 
musings of a pious heart with expressions of family 
love. From life's meridian, he thus writes : " This is 
my birthday, and brings with it many meditations as to 
the past and presaging thoughts of the future. Yes, 
to-day I am thii'ty-five ; and have lived half the term 
allotted to man I I ask myself whether half life's work 
is done, and if so, cannot but feel how little will be 
the entire sum. Yet these years have teemed with 
incident, much that is tragic, more that is sweet and 
pleasant. The tide is bearing me on to the grave ; 
nay, not so ! ratlier, I trust, toward heaven's shoreless 
ocean, where my little bark, so long tossed on life's 
heaving sea, may float forever on those joyous waters, 
where the breath of the Spirit shall swell its sails, and 
waft it from one scene of beatitude to another." 

In 1859, when his mother's ill health had assumed 
a character so serious as to denote an issue not far 
removed, he thus writes to her, on the 15th of 
February, her birthday : — 

" I will not let this day go by without a word ex- 
pressive of my constant love and daily memory of you. 
This, too, is the birthday of my httle boy ; and I blend 
together in my thoughts the two dearest objects of 
affection, — my children and my mother. 

" And now, my dear mother, I have only this word 
of greeting to utter, — may God bless you and make 
this year full of happiness to you ; and if it prove your 
last, or witness your birth into another s})liere, may it 
yet be fraught with richest, choicest, most precious 
blessings, and be the happiest which your life, so 
varied in its sorrow and joy, has ever known." 



152 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

In a letter to Eugene he thus refers to his mother's 
sickness, which confined her for several of the last 
months of her life to a sick-chamber : " I have just re- 
turned from Wayland, where I go every two or three 
days to visit our beloved mother. We found her still 
quite ill, but more comfortable, always thinking of you 
and her other dear ones, expecting death, whenever it 
may come, as a solemn but sweet reality, and as the 
herald to a brighter region." 

In another letter to the same brother, he refers 
ao-ain to his mother : " Nothing; could be more serene 
and radiant than her sick-chamber. The little children 
all seek it, as the one joyous, sunny spot in the whole 
house, where they are ever sure of wisdom and love, 
blended together in every word." 

Thus did she draw near eternity. But Eugene 
reached it several weeks in advance, through the ocean 
portals, being lost overboard in his homeward voyage 
from New Orleans. In the mother's state of health it 
was thought best not to communicate an event to her 
which might add a mortal pang to her last hours and 
speed her malady. Finding no allusion made to Eu- 
gene, she asked Richard if he had gone before her, a 
remark which he evaded without answerino;. She saw 
in a moment the purpose to withhold from her sad and 
exciting tidings, and meekly suppressing the anxious 
questioning of a mother's heart, she never alluded to 
the subject again. 

She continued cheerful, fully supported by her 
beloved Lord, and drawing near with bright and joy- 
ous anticipations the heavenly world which, with her 
Saviour, held so many of her heart's treasures. We 



EPISODES. 153 

remember turning to hide a starting tear on an occa- 
sion when she spoke of her interest in the growing 
corn, hoping a plenteous harvest, without one sigh at 
the thought of the other harvest-home where she 
would then be gathered. 

She entered sweetly on her glorious rest, on Sabbath 
morning, July olst, 1859, the same day that termi- 
nated the Boston pastorate of her son Arthur. 

In her sickness she watched with interest the grow- 
ing attachment of her son for Miss Emma L. Reeves, 
a sister of Kichard's wife. She expressed a wish that 
the marriao-e mio-ht not be deferred on account of her 
departure for the better land, and it took place accord- 
ingly in September of the same year.* 

* We take the liberty to insert a few unpretending verses from the pen 
of the bride, in reference to her husband's children. 

" Maidens wove white buds and leaflets, 
Sweet and pure as they, 
Feverfew and mignonette, 
In a fair bouquet. 

" But a loving hand brought dearer, 
Fairer flowers than they, 
And he placed them in my bosom, 
Not to fade away. 

" One a bud, but just revealing 
Rich and roseate shades, 
With a sweetness aromatic 
As the Indian glades. 

"And beside it is my Lily's 
Alabaster cup, 
Raising pure and perfumed petals 
Gently, heavenward, up. 

" Ye are welcome to my bosom. 
Choice, immortal flowers ! 
Heavenly Gardener! help me train them 

For thy fadeless bowers ! " 
7* 



154 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

The husband, in a private letter from the army, thus 
refers to his second marriage : " In my mother's sick- 
chamber appeared a ministering angel. Her love for 
my mother, and devoted, tender care for long, weary 
months, her love of flowers and children, her poetical 
tastes, and, above all, her consistent piety, and the evi- 
dent leading of Providence, caused me to form another 
attachment as true and tender as the first." 

He now entered upon house-keeping in Watertown, 
which he continued till he was appointed army chap- 
lain, a period of his life to which we shall now give 
exclusive attention. 



PART III. 



THE ARMY CHAPLAIN 



? 



"Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he 
That every man in arms should wish to be ? 
— It is the generous spirit, who, when brought 
Among the tasks of real life, 

Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves 
Of their bad influence, and the good receives : 

Who comprehends his tmst, and to the same 
Keeps faithful \\'ith a singleness of aim ; 

And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law 
In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw ; 

Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, 
Nor thought of tender happiness betray ; 
Who, not content that former worth stand fast, 
Looks forward, persevering to the last, 
From well to better daily self-surpast ; 

Finds comfort in himself and in his cause ; 
And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws 
His breath in confidence of Heaven's applause : 
This is the happy warrior ; this is he 
Whom every man in arms should wish to be." 

Wordsworth. 




CHAPTER I. 



THE GREAT REBELLION. 



"And after that he must be loosed a little season." 

Apocalypse. 

"Whence and what art thou, execrable Shape, 
That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance 
Thy miscreated front ? 

Art thou that traitor Angel, art thou he 
"Who first broke peace in heaven, and faith till then 
Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms 
Drew after him the third part of Heaven's sons, 
Conjured against the Highest ? . . . 
. Back to thy punishment ! " 

Paradise Lost. 




HE attention of our New England pastor now 
became closely fixed upon national afFaii's, 
which daily wore a more threatening aspect. 
He watched the issue with the anxious re- 
gard of a patriot, a Christian, and a minister of the 
Gospel. With the children of the Puritan, these 
three terms are convertible. American patriotism is 
not solely the love for the Republic, which burned in 
the breast of the devoted Roman, or instigated the 
Greek to almost superhuman valor. The Puritan had 
sundered the natural, and sacrificed the mere instinc- 
tive love of country, to seek beyond the vast ocean a 
new country, where he would be at liberty to worship 
God according to the dictates of his own conscience. 



158 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

This he sought, and this has bound his heart to his 
new home. His love of hberty and of countiy is, 
therefore, always a. love of the open Bible, with freedom 
of unfettered development in all directions of the man- 
hood wliich speaks in every original feature the like- 
ness of its Divine Maker. Therefore patriotism in 
America, more than anywhere else in history, is an 
intensely religious sentiment ; and they are found to 
love their country most who love God most, — to ren- 
der the best military service on the battle-fields of 
patriotism, who are the best soldiers of the cross. 
Nor do they doff one uniform when they don the 
other. They see in the loved stars and stripes of the 
Union the standard of the cross ; and they follow their 
Master to war against rebellion, as did the Israehtes 
the pillar of cloud and fire, as did the army of Con- 
stantine the crucifix which glowed in the sky. 

The guardian, therefore, of the religious interests 
of 4he Puritan race watches carefully, too, the vestal 
flame of patriotism. An important part of his theology 
is the history of his country ; and as a watchman on 
Zion's walls, it is his duty to signalize every approach- 
ing foe to freedom. The politician does not study 
public affairs more intently than the pastor ; and, as he 
takes the lead in religion, he holds the same place in 
patriotism. Thus our Gospel ministers, in the almost 
theocracy of American liberty, are like the Elijahs, 
Ezekiels, and Isaiahs, who guarded the integrity of the 
nation as a part of their spiritual charge. 

In the country, too, of the " Church without a 
Bishop," there has been no apportionment of religious 
ethics, assigning one share to the laitv and another to 



THE GKEAT KEBELLION. 159 

the cleroy. What is right for the one is for the other. 
And Avhat the Christian clerg;yTnan may not do is 
aUke unlawful for the Christian layman. Hence, not 
only have the clergy of America sent their petitions to 
Congress against the expansion of the national area 
furnishing new fields for slavery propagandism ; but 
when the guns of Fort Sumter proclaimed the out- 
breaking of rebellion, they rushed to their country's 
standard, some in the pastoral robe, some sword in 
hand, captains or privates in the Church militant ; no 
more hesitating for clerical punctilio, than they would 
to serve as posse comitatus of the angel Michael for the 
imprisonment of the Dragon. 

The religious nature of American patriotism has given 
it a characteristic very puzzling to those who understand 
only tlie instinct of patriotism. The Bible has enlarged 
the Puritan's heart to the utmost borders of the world. 
Religion has transformed it from the contracted geo- 
graphical sentiment to a cosmopolitan patriotism, whose 
country is the world, whose countrymen are all man- 
kind. It cannot be restricted to the earthly precinct 
hallowed by the accident of birth, although it loves it 
because of its Gospel liberty, and as affording a step- 
ping-stone to a better country, that is a heavenly. 
Therefore its declaration of rights does not say, we are 
free and equal ; but all men are born free and equal, 
endowed with certain inalienable rights, among which 
are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It will 
not, therefore, be accessary to fetters imposed by an- 
other ; nor can it be satisfied while there are any groan- 
ing under oppression, by whose bonds it is galled, as 
bound with them. True, wliile it insists upon washing 



160 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

its own hands in innocency, it will seek to deliver those 
oppressed from other's wrongs, by prayer to God and 
by the power of public opinion, rather than by carnal 
weapons. Yet it cannot be indifferent nor inactive, in 
its legitimate moral sphere, while the sighs of a down- 
trodden brother-man are wafted to it by the farthest 
wind. 

The relio'ious character of the sentiment makes it 
repudiate with holy horror the maxim, "Our country 
right or wrong," if the latter phrase be taken to mean 
more than a mistaken policy, and imply further the 
perpetration of national crime. The Puritan's children 
love their country as a province of God's domain ; and 
while they will, with a cordial willingness beyond 
others, render to the subordinate government all which 
is not due to higher claims, they w^ill never take its 
part in rebellion against the Supreme Ruler. 

These remarks explain the participation of our clergy 
in the work of suppressing rebellion, and furnish the 
key to the course of Chaplain Fuller, to be mifolded in 
our narrative. They are not, probably, at all needed 
by our countrymen and times. Yet the voice of a 
published volume is liable to extend to other countries 
and other times, to whom our holy cause ought to be 
fairly presented. 

For the same reason, we deem it necessary to make 
a very brief statement of the causes which have led to 
a rebellion against the best government mankind has 
enjoyed, and which has been the repository of the 
world's hopes of freedom, — a rebelhon with no pre- 
cedent upon earth, and but one in heaven. 

Briefly, then, let it be noted, that, as in the days 



THE GREAT REBELLION. 161 

of Job, where the children of God resorted, the Ad- 
versary also came with them ; so, in American colo- 
nization, with the Puritan purpose was embodied an 
antagonistic element. Not merely did the lovers of 
God seek a sanctuary of freedom in the new world, but 
devotees of pride, indolence, and Mammon, and needy 
adventurers, hungry for spoil, came also. In Mexico 
they sacrilegiously bore the crucifix in a crusade of 
plunder and oppression ; while in South America a des- 
perado, who had been foiled in petty villany at home, 
so magnified the scale of his robbery as to take his 
place among those giant Scapins, who make up the 
catalogue of earth's conquerors. 

In the Southern colonies of North America, too, the 
same element obtained a place, implanting the tares 
of oppression in the area of liberty, and misotheism 
in the see of religion. 

These elements did not for a time develop their 
antagonism ; but as they were shaken together in the 
course of history, a ferment was inevitable, and finally 
an irrepressible conflict, till the sure triumph of God's 
eternal day should forever dissipate the night. Wick- 
edness always evinces its lineage from the Father of 
Lies, by dissembling, while its end can thus be accom- 
plished. Hence, in American history, while the word 
slave was carefully excluded from the Constitution, 
as thrustincr a lie in the face of the instrument, it 
obtained an anonymous place in the fugitive clause, 
hiding in liberty, till it should grow strong, and con- 
fident to raise its crest. Latet anguis in herhis. 

In the growth of the country, slavery finds leisure 
for political plotting while the attention of liberty is 

K 



162 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

absorbed in thrift and industry. It concentrates, too, 
its attention and energies upon the one purpose of self- 
preservation and aggrandizement, while sectional inter- 
ests are unwarily permitted to weaken the majority it 
seeks to control. In its own domain it hateth the light 
because its deeds are evil, and violently excludes pub- 
lic instruction, while, by grasping the landed property, 
it impoverishes and at the same time degrades those 
whose lot is not cast with itself. Thus the slave 
oligarchy iniles, in its own States, a poor, ignorant 
white population of twenty times its number, and by 
means of this is able to control the policy of the rest 
of the nation. Its eye is on the citadel of liberty, to 
which it advances by secret parallels, and these paral- 
lels have the plausible name of Compromises. 

The Cerberus of slavery looks with a green-eyed 
watchfulness from its own wasted domain, to the far 
exceeding increase of the children of liberty ; and it is 
constantly contriving devices to offset this augmenta- 
tion which threatens to so outnumber slave representa- 
tion as to be no longer manageable. Slavery, like the 
locusts, can only flourish by spreading from land it 
has ravaged to newly acquired territory. This leads 
to the acquisition of Louisiana, Texas, the w^ar with 
Mexico waged for more domain ; and by compromise 
the slave oligarchy partitions the fairest regions for its 
blighting spread. Yet wickedness cannot grow so fast 
as virtue and industry and invention, nor the darkness 
of slavery increase like the light of liberty under the 
presiding sun of Christian righteousness. Slavery is 
alarmed for her supremacy, and as she fails to keep 
step with Freedom in advancing over the new fields, 



THE GREAT REBELLION. 163 

she contrives fraud and crime. She raises her crest, 
thrusts forth her hissing tongue, and would strike her 
fangs into the fair bosom of Liberty. Kansas is the 
first theatre of unblushing crime attempted by the 
slave oligarchy, now become desperate. A supple tool 
of its own occupies the Presidential chair of the nation, 
and all the means of government are at its command. 
Bribeiy, corruption, terror, violence, are alternately 
levelled at the ark of Liberty, — the ballot-box.* 

But the crime is too outrageous for the Christian 
light of the nineteenth century to look upon. The 
" north star is at last discovered." The people with- 
draw their absorbed attention from worldly increase, 
and fix it in astonishment upon the slave power, wear- 
ing now a disguise so thin as to reveal its horrid 
deformity. The nation is about to speak, and in its 
ominous murmur, which already begins to surge like 
the first low breath of an overwhelming tempest, the 
quick ear of the slave power discerns the presage of 
doom, and rouses to the climax of crime, "having 
great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a 
short time." 

The slave oligarchy had now installed in the White 
House a President whose public career has given his 
character no alternative but treason or beetle-blind- 
ness ; which horn of the dilemma shall be awarded 
him we leave to the sentence of History. Conspiracy 
was in his Cabinet, transferring the munitions of war 

* It cannot be necessary to refer the reader to the masterly expose of the 
crimes of the shive power contained in the speeches of the Massachusetts 
Senator, entitled, " The Crime against Kansas," and " The Barbarism of 
Slavery," and indeed all the utterances of that eloquence, whose burden 
has still been, Delenda est sei-viiudo ! 



164 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

to the rendezvous of treason, with the army reduced 
to a shadow, and the navy despatclied to distant seas. 

The nation spoke at the ballot-box, and commis- 
sioned Freedom to the presidential office. The com- 
mencement of Abraham Lincoln's administration found 
the rebellion armed and equipped from the national 
storehouses, and the government disarmed and de- 
pleted by the preceding administration. 

The guns of Fort Sumter signalled the onset of 
barbarism and oppression upon the fairest domain that 
genuine religion, public education, brotherhood, and 
liberty had ever acquired. In no heart did it awaken 
a more patriotic response than in that of the subject 
of our present narrative. We indeed arrogate for him 
no superiority nor singularity in this respect, for, thank 
God ! the heart and voice of twenty million freemen 
in this exigency was as that of one man. 

Enthusiastic Union meetings were holden in every 
city and village of the Free States. The national stars 
and stripes streamed from the church, school-house, 
mart, factory, and private dwelling ; so that bunting 
speedily rose to a fabulous price, and could not be had 
at that. Every profession and calling vied with each 
other in patriotic expressions. Committees of citizens 
waited upon the few presses or individuals who mani- 
fested any symptoms of disloyalty, and compelled them 
literally to display their colors, and define satisfactorily 
their position. It was felt that the nation's critical 
nour had come, and called for prompt and united 
measures. 

Patriotic and military enthusiasm pervaded all classes. 
Boys organized themselves into armed bands, and would 



THE GREAT REBELLION. 165 

gladly liave shared the campaigns of their sires. Among 
these may be mentioned a military organization of young 
soldiers in Boston, called " The Fuller Rifles," in com- 
pliment to the chaplain. 

Among the public meetings everywhere holden, we 
ha^'e the account of one in "Watertown, in which " the 
Rev. Arthur B. Fuller protested against 'any further 
compromise with slavery. Thus far, and no farther.' 
He was in favor of the Constitution of these United 
States. He was in favor of a settlement ; but, in the 
language of Hon. Charles Sumner, * Nothing is ever 
settled, that is not settled right.' Let us stand right 
ourselves, and then we can demand right from others. 
He urged the Republicans to stand by the election of 
Lincoln and Hamlin. Protect and sustain them. He 
was opposed to compromise, — even to the admission 
of New Mexico, — because it would be in violation of 
our platform, and at variance with the opinions of such 
honored statesmen as Webster and Clay, and because 
it interdicted the spirit of the Gospel." 

After the Sabbath labors of his own pulpit, he went 
to the camp, where the soldiers were gathering, and 
preached to them in the temple not made with hands. 
Here his extempore facility and pliancy of address 
to the needs of the occasion proved very effective, and 
rendered his preaching especially valued by the soldier. 
He was soon chosen chaplain of the Sixteenth Regi- 
ment of Massachusetts Volunteers, and, on the first 
day of August, 18G1, was duly conmiissioned by Gov- 
ernor Andrew. 

We have a newspaper report of a sermon he preached 
at Camp Cameron, Massachusetts, which may give 



166 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

some idea of his manner of address in his new po- 
sition. 

" The text selected was the sevententh and eight- 
eenth verses of the thirty-second chapter of Numbers : 
' But we ourselves will go ready armed before the chil- 
dren of Israel, until we have brought them into their 
place : and our little ones shall dwell in the fenced 
cities, because of the inhabitants of the land. We 
will not return into our houses until the children of 
Israel have inherited every man his inheritance.' 
The sermon was specially designed to assure those 
who were about to go to the war that the cause they 
were going to serve was a holy one, and had the 
approbation of the Lord in the same way as that al- 
luded to in the words of the text. There was some- 
thing, the speaker said, extremely similar in the cir- 
cumstances of our inheritance here in the North, on 
this side of the Potomac, and that of the Jews. They 
said, ' We will not inherit with them on yonder side 
of Jordan ; because our inheritance is fallen to us on 
this side Jordan eastward.' This, our inheritance, 
it was proper we should protect and defend from its 
enemies, who loved not America ; that we should 
subdue the land to recognition of just government, 
and afterward return, and be guiltless before the Lord, 
in the which should be a possession. If we did not do 
so, tlien the words of Moses to the children of Reuben 
and Gad would be applicable to us ; we would sin 
ai2;ainst the Lord : and we mio;ht be sure our sin would 
find us out. The families of all such as would go out 
to battle in this religious war — for it was a religious 
one — AYould be well protected and cared for. With- 



THE GREAT REBELLION. 1G7 

out a successful subjugation of tlie enemy of the inher- 
itance we had to bequeath to our children, that inher- 
itance would be valueless ; and hence our duty to go 
forth, fearlessly and valiantly, for the rights of those 
we loved. This was the motive which every man had 
at heart : and soins to battle in the name of the Lord 
they would carry it out." 

On receiving the commission of chaplain, he re- 
signed his pastorate in Watertown. In his letter of 
resignation he says : " The moral and religious wel- 
fare of our patriotic soldiery cannot be neglected save 
to the demoralization and permanent spiritual injury 
of those who are perilling their all in our country's 
cause. The regiment represents Middlesex County 
on the tented field, the county in which I was born, 
and which my honored father represented in our 
national Congress ; and one company is from Water- 
town, where for nearly two years I have been a settled 
mmister, — circumstances which give this call of duty 
a pecuhar claim upon my mind and heart. I am will- 
ing to peril life for the welfare of oui* brave soldiery, 
and in our country's cause. If God requires that sacri- 
fice of me, it shall be ofiered on the altar of freedom, 
and in defence of all that is good in American institu- 
tions." 

Before leaving for the scene of war, he was gratified 
by a presentation visit from his friends, of which the 
following account was given in the public press. 

'' A very pleasant gathering of the friends of the 
chaplain of the Sixteenth Regiment, Rev. Arthui* B. 
Fuller, took place at his residence in Watertown on 
Wednesday evening. Yesterday morning a commit- 



168 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

tee, of whom Dr. Samuel Richardson was chairman, 
presented to Mr. Fuller the handsome sum of two 
hundred and fifty dollars, stating that, but for the 
stringency of the times affecting all classes, a much 
larger sum could have been easily raised. Among 
the donors are members of every denomination in Water- 
town, Rev. Mr. Flood, the Catholic priest, being among 
the number. 

" The following brief but appropriate address was 
made by the chairman of the committee. Dr. Richard- 
son ; — 

" ' Respected and dear Friend : As you are about to 
leave us for a new field of action, your friends of various 
denominations in this community desire to present you 
with some testimonial of their affection and high esteem 
for you as a minister, a citizen, and a man. I am re- 
quested to present you this purse, with their sincere 
prayers for your safety and welfare. May you soon 
return to your beloved family and friends, and may we 
once more have the privilege of grasping your hand in 
welcome and gladness at the close of this war, as we 
now with sadness press it in parting with you to take 
part and do your duty in its stirring scenes as a patriot 
and a Christian.' 

'-'- A beautiful and w^ell-stored writmg-desk and sev- 
eral other substantial packages were also presented Mr. 
Fuller by his friends in Boston and vicinity." 

Among the closing scenes at Watertown, we remem- 
ber a prayer-meeting in the Methodist Episcopal Chui'ch. 
In the desk sat the pastor, Rev. Henry E. Hempstead, 
afterward Chaplain Hempstead, and Chaplain Fuller. 
The topic of prayer and remark was our country's 



THE GREAT REBELLION. 169 

crisis. An army officer present spoke of the dangers 
he was about to encounter, and of death upon tlie 
battle-field. The two clergymen poured forth earnest 
patriotic prayers. Much evident solicitude for the 
soldier was manifest in the assembly, seeming to la- 
ment in advance his expected life -sacrifice in his coun- 
try's cause, as did the Trojans in bidding farewell to 
Hector when he went forth against Achilles. Danger 
for the clergymen was not thought of; yet, in the 
issue, the army officer resigned, and returned home ; 
the chaplains continued in their country's service, and 
both laid down life upon the altar of patriotic devotion 
within a few days of each other, at Fredericksburg. 
The one fell from a hostile bullet ; the other sacrificed 
his life in taking care of the sick and wounded, and 
the incidental exposure. So little do we know of the 
future I 



CHAPTER II. 



FORTRESS MONROE. 



" I confess to having enough of the war spirit to feel a pride in Bunker Hill and 
other scenes of our Revolutionary struggle. War is a terrible evil ; but tyranny is a 
greater ; and, to expel the latter poison from the body politic, war is needful. After 
all, what is life but one great battle-field, on which a most momentous war against 
temptation and the tyranny of our passions and appetites is waged by each human 
soul ? And what spirit has made its way to any true nobility of character, any real 
self-government, without passing through a field of moral battle, which has been to it 
a Bunker Hill, a Marathon, or a Platsea ? And the debased soul, alas has known its 
Waterloo, from whose deadly conflict it came not off victorious!" — Family letter 
©/"Rev. a. B. Fuller, written June 17, 1852. 

" Though lodged within no vigorous frame, 
His soul her daily tasks renewed. 
Blithe as the lark on sun-gilt wings 
High poised.' . 

N the ITtli of August, 1861, Chaplain Fuller 
left Boston with the Sixteenth Massachu- 
setts Regiment for their Southern destina- 
tion. He writes* that on their departure 
"there was less elation, less display, than usual, per- 
haps, but more of stern determination and clear real- 
ization of the object to be achieved and the hardship? 
to be endured than has been felt before." 
Respecting his regiment he says : — 

* We shall cite in the following pages, without particular reference, the 
Chaplain's private letters, and his correspondence published in the Boston 
Journal, Boston Traveller, New York Tribune, Christian Inquirer, and other 
papers. 




FORTRESS MONROE. 171 

" The character of the men composing it is generally such 
as promises fresh honors to a county which contains Lex- 
ington and Bunker Hill, Concord and Cambridge, Watertown 
and other places historic in our earliest struggle for freedom. 
The officers are skilled military men, selected for capacity, 
and not because of political influence. 

" You have doubtless learned by telegraph of the safe 
arrival of our regiment in this city, but a few particulars of 
our jom-ney and position here may not be unacceptable. Our 
route ^vitnessed one continued ovation, city and country vy- 
ing in patriotic demonstrations and exhibitions of good-will 
toward those who were on their way to the scene of peiil, but 
we believe also of honor and of ultimate national triimiph. 
On many a liillside, in the evening, bonfires blazed, and at 
every way-station enthusiastic cheers rent the air, and many 
little gifts and leave-takings of those who to us were entire 
strangers evidenced that in this great cause the people are 
one in heart and opinion. 

" At Fall River an escort of a juvenile company of Zouaves 
and of many citizens awaited us, but Colonel Wyman wisely 
avoided fatiguing the men by marching through the streets 
of that city. Indeed, throughout our journey the same 
judicious plan has been pursued by our officers. We only 
touched at New York ; we did not land from the steamers, 
and no unnecessary steps have yet been taken, and no un- 
necessary display made. We were compelled to journey on 
the Sabbath, owing to the present exigency, which impera- 
tively demands all our available force near the capital. This 
fact caused us to fmd m nearly every town in New Jersey, as 
we passed through, the people in their best attire, and ready 
to welcome us. It would have pleased our friends at home 
to have seen the general good order of the men, and to find 
that they were not unmindful of the fact that, though ' we 
were marching on,'yet it was the Sabbath da}', and 'hymns 



172 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

of loftj cheer' and true religious patriotism were alone in 
order. 

" Our greeting in Philadelphia, although at midnight, ex- 
ceeded our leave-taking in Boston. A fine collation is always 
given by the most substantial citizens of this place to each 
regiment as it passes through the 'city of brotherly love,* 
no matter what the hour, or from which of our loyal States. 
Our fine brass band — and there is none better connected 
with any regiment — ' discoursed most eloquent music,' fitted 
to the day and the occasion. 

" We marched through Baltimore yesterday, the nineteenth 
of August, thinking of another nineteerith, that of April, when 
another Massachusetts regiment marched thi'ough also. We 
were not enthusiastically received as a general rule, for Bal- 
timore is as to its leading influence disloyal to the Union, and 
hates to-day that ' Star-Spangled. Banner,' which still floats 
from Fort McHenry, and loves not that whole country for 
which Washington fought. Why not, then, be consistent, 
and take down their proud monument to the ' Father of his 
Country ' ? Here, of all places, might patriotism be expected, 
and sad enough is it to find it otherwise. A large part of the 
population yet remains true to the old flag, and manifests 
itself loyal in a noble manner." 

For a few vi^eeks the regiment was stationed at 
Baltimore, which at that time had not been wholly 
relieved from the poison of the oligarchs. The gov- 
ernment were still vainly endeavoring to temper the 
needfal austerity of war with the ill-assorted mod- 
eration of peace, mistaken by the foe for timidity, 
weakness, and indecision. The Chaplain thus ex- 
presses the results of his observation : — 

" You can hardly imagine how much the evidences of a 



FORIRKSS MONROE. 173 

more stern dealing with triiitors and a more vigorous prose- 
cution of the war inspire the soldiers with fresh hope and 
confidence. Fremont's proclamation meets with almost un- 
qualified approval, especially from Union slaveholders. It is 
a move in the right direction, and would be imitated to ad- 
vantage in this State, and in all our semi-lojal States. 

"The presentment of treasonable newspapers bj grand 
juries, and the suppression of others by the government, is 
especially to be commended. It is these which hound the 
rebels on to their treasonable deeds, and they should be forced 
to be ' dumb dogs, which dare ngt longer bark.' But why 
are such tolerated in Baltimore ? No less than three such, 
the South, the Republican, and the Exchange, are published 
there, and are most defiant of the govermnent. They daily 
incite to insurrection, and the consequence is that om- officei'S 
and soldiers are daily insulted there, and it is done with per- 
fect impunity. One of the soldiers of our regiment was fired 
upon in broad daylight by a woman, before we left that city, 
while he was pursuing a deserter, and in the discharge of 
his duty. I have seen secession flags flying, and had them 
flaunted before my face while walking quietly, unarmed, in 
the streets. I have heard cheers, long and loud, for JefF 
Davis, and groans for the Union. This is always done by 
women and childi-en, it is true, for that is the cowardly, 
sneaking nature of rebellion, avoiding risk of summary ven- 
geance from our manly soldiers. But ought these things 
to be allowed? and may not another massacre like that of 
the 19th of April ensue if these things are not nipped in 
the bud, and if a traitorous press remain unsilenced? 

" Our officers and soldiers did not always bear contumely 
in silence, though they could not strike down their tormentors 
when such were women and cliildren. Sometimes they an- 
swered such scoffs with fitting words. 'Are you a Massa- 
chusetts soldier ? ' said a woman, elegantly dressed, and doubt- 



174 CHAPLAIN FULLKR. 

less deemed a lady in Baltimore. ' I am, madam,' was the 
courteous answer of the officer thus addressed.* ' Well, 
thank God, my husband is in the Southern army, ready to 
kill such hirelings as you.' ' Do you not miss him, madam ? ' 
said the officer. ' yes, I miss him a good deal.' ' Very well, 
madam, we are going South in a few days, and will try to 
find him and bring him back here with his companions.' You 
ought to have seen how angry she was ! ' You are from that 
miserable Boston, I suppose,' she said, ' where there is nothing 
but mob law, and they burned down the Ursuline Convent, — 
the Puritan bigots ! ' ' Some such thing did happen in Charles- 
town many years ago, when I was a boy,' said the officer, ' at 
least I have heard so, and am very sorry for it. But can you 
tell me what street that is ? ' ' Pratt Street,' was the unsus- 
pecting reply. ^ What happened there, madam, on the 19^A 
of April, this very year ? ' He got no answer from the angry 
secessionist, but the loud shout which went up from the Union 
bystanders, who generally are of the humbler orders, atoned for 
her silence. People that live in glass houses had better not 
throw stones. The same officer, riding in a chaise with a 
gentleman • who showed secession proclivities, but was cour- 
teous in their demonstration, was told by the gentleman 
that the horse which was drawing them was called 'Jeff 
Davis,' in honor of that distinguished rebel, and asked if 
lie *did not object to driving such a horse.' 'O no, sir,' 
was the instant reply; 'to drive Jeff Davis is the very- 
purpose of our coming South.' Our secession gentleman 
imitated his sister traitor in preserving a discreet silence." 

The religious object of the Chaplain's commission 
no martial preparations could make him forget. He 
had come as a religious teacher, ready to practise what 
he preached, and he w^as impelled by his sense of the 

* The officer was Chaplain Fuller. 



FORTRESS MONROE. 175 

especial importance of religion in the terrible expe- 
riences of war. He writes : — 

" Our encampment is liardlj^ settled enough yet for definite 
arrangements to have been fully carried out. After this week, 
however, the arrangements are as follows : Sunday school at 
nine, A. M. ; attendance to be wholly voluntary. Preaching 
every Sabbath at five o'clock, P. M., the old hour at Camp 
Cameron, and the best hour of the day for the purpose. 
Prayer and conference meeting (when practicable) every 
day at about six and seven, P. M. ; attendance of course 
voluntary. These services will be fully attended. Even 
now, every night there are quiet circles for prayer and 
praise. 

"Besides these services, there are Bibles and religious 
volumes to be distributed to the men, and books for singing 
God's praise. We find the ' Army Melodies ' useful among 
us, and were not the writer one of the editors of the volume, 
he would say much of the necessity and usefulness of supply- 
ing rehgious and patriotic music and words to every regiment 
and every naval vessel, in place of the ribald songs so sadly 
common in the army and on shipboard. No more refining 
or religious instrumentality than music can be used." 

That threadbare subject, the weather^ acquires an 
original interest from new circumstances. 

" This topic, so common when people meet who have not 
much to say, assumes real importance when ' the children of 
Israel dwell in tents,' and when the weather exercises so much 
influence over the health and spirits of the men. "We have 
been generally favored with genial skies, but the rainy 
weather has now set in, and the last three days have been 
uncomfoi-table in the extreme. Particularly inconvenient is 
it with reference to religious exercises. These are neces- 
earily suspended every rainy day, and yet on no day do the 



176 V CHAPLAIN FULLEK. 

men so mucli need tlie cheering and reviving influences of 
social conference and prayer, and particularly of singing God's 
praise. We have a choir organized, who sing from the ^ Army 
Melodies,' and most of the tents are vocal every evening with 
its patriotic and religious songs." 

As there was no new outbreak in Baltimore, and 
its agitated elements gradually subsided, the Chaplain 
found occasion to contemplate some of the interesting 
features of that locality. Among these was his fa- 
vorite resort, the last resting-place. 

" Close by us is the famous Greenmount Cemetery, the 
Mount Auburn of Baltimore. This ground, too, was recently 
desecrated by the traitors of Baltimore. Immediately after 
the 19th of April last, the chapel of the cemetery was seized 
by order of General Trimble, and used as a storehouse for 
rebel guns and powder. Now Massachusetts soldiers walk 
quietly through its shady paths, and think, not of death, but 
of the immortahty of blessedness which awaits every loyal 
soldier who ches a martjT.- for hberty, and for the Christian 
principles involved in this struggle. 

" And well may a Massachusetts soldier love to walk sol- 
emnly in these paths ; for in yonder enclosure He the remains 
of the gallant Major Ringgold, who died at Palo Alto. His 
only monument is a stockade of Mexican guns and bayonets 
captured in that conflict. Colonel Watson, Avho died at Mon- 
terey, sleeps, as to the mortal part, peacefully near. But not 
before these soldierly memorials do we linger longest. In 
yonder mausoleum laid for days our Massachusetts dead of 
the 19th of April, 1861. The soldier -whose last words were, 
* God bless the Stars and Stripes ! ' slept here until Governor 
Andrew's noble missive was carried into effect, and their 
bodies, cared for 'tenderly,' were restored to the Old Bay 
State, which will ever cherish their memories." 



FORTRESS MONROE. 177 

He thus writes of Druid Hill Park : — 

" These beautiful grounds are frequently occupied by the 
Federal forces, though at present no regiment is within their 
limits. The citizens of Baltimore have recently purchased 
this site, and have made a liberal expenditure to beautify its 
precincts. No finer drive exists than its roads afford, and no 
better ground can be found for an encampment, though the 
government is chary about using it, in courteous deference to 
the wishes of the citizens. On our way thither we passed by 
many beautiful residences, mostly occupied by secessionists, 
for they comprise the wealthy men here. On one residence, 
however, the ' Star-Spangled Banner ' still proudly waved, 
and there it has waved in the breeze every day since the 
19th of April of this year. All through the reign of terror, 
as the Union men designate the ten days succeeding that 
infamous massacre of our soldiers, that flag floated in the air, 
surrounded by secession emblems." 

He thus speaks of Fort McHenry : — 

" It occupies a splendid location to command the city and 
suppress rebellion within its limits. The large shell mortars 
and heavy columbiads and other weapons of destruction are 
kept constantly ready for service in case of an insurrection 
against the government, and the destruction of Baltimore 
would in such a case be inevitable. Monumental Square, 
where secessionists mostly reside, the ' club-house,' where trea- 
son is said to be hatched, Pratt Street and its bridge and 
market, — these would in such an emergency soon be scenes 
of terrible carnage and vengeance on the euemiies of our gov- 
ernment. And the star-spangled banner would wave over 
smoke and flame from that very fort where its appearance in 
the gray, misty morning called forth from the author, impris- 
oned in a British ship, an immortal song of patriotic fervor, 

8* L 



178 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

the tribute and prophecy of the permanence of the old flag of 
our country." 

Death, too, whose pamful volume, crowded with re- 
peated lessons, was now to be the Chaplain's daily text- 
book, thus opens the first chapter and teaches him to 
moralize : — 

" In the afternoon I attended the funeral of an excellent 
man, J. D. Prentiss, formerly of Medfield, Massachusetts, a 
graduate of Harvard, and for many years President of Bal- 
timore College. He was a firm Union man, and I had 
enjoyed the hospitalities of his home for several days of the 
past week. He attended our religious services only the Sab- 
bath before, and in all ways had testified his love for old 
Massachusetts and her soldiers and their holy cause. He 
had spoken to me of the peril to life in the army, and now he 
lay in that beautiful home a mangled corpse, killed by a rail- 
road accident. He had so many friends in Massachusetts, 
and has been so devoted a friend to our soldiers, that his 
memory claims this mention. His fate is an illustration of 
the truth that death is everywhere, not only on the battle- 
field, but in our very streets ; and many of those who pity us 
and fear for our fate may themselves earhest be called home, 
and by a bloody death. It matters not, if we are prepared. 
He always dies well who has lived well, die when, or where, 
or how he may." 

• On the 1st of September orders came for the regi- 
ment 

"to report at Fortress Monroe, and without an instant's 
hesitation rations were dealt out, tents struck, baggage hur- 
ried into wagons, and we were soon on board the Louisiana. 
Our march through Baltimore to the boat was very different 
from our entrance into that city. Secessiondom was discoui'- 



FORTRESS MONROE. 179 

aged by the Hatteras Inlet news, and stayed at home ; but 
the Union men and women and cliildi-en of Baltimore were 
out in full force and in high spirits. It made one fancy him- 
self at home in good old Boston to hear such loud cheers for 
the Union. Ladies presented choice bouquets to the officers 
and soldiers as they passed, and a patriotic enthusiasm was 
manifested, which, if followed by patriotic deeds, will yet 
redeem the fair fame of Baltimore." 

On his brief voyage he writes : — 

"I am surrounded by naval and mihtary men who were 
in that glorious conflict. Tropliies of the splendid triumph 
are freely exhibited, consisting of swords, flags, surgical 
instruments, &c. Our boys of the ' Sixteenth ' are cheering 
pretty loudly on deck, and in one part of the steamer the 
brass band are discoursing their liveliest strains. You would 
tliink our soldiers on board had all turned Methodists to judge 
])y the slioutings; the companies from Lowell, especially the 
' Butler Rifles,' largely Catholics, were heartily joining in the 
chorus of ' Glory Hallelujah, we are marching on.' " * 

The regiment were destined to stay several months 
in the fortress, and here the Chaplain was enabled to 
prosecute his labors with vigor. The following is a 
sketch of the religious work. 

" I have among my auditors, every Sabbath, a large num- 
ber of Roman Catholics, and also members of every Protes- 
tant sect. It requires no forbearance on my part to preach 
on those great themes only, and in .that spirit only in which 
all the disciples of our common Master can take an interest, 
and feel that their conscientious opinions ai*e respected. 

* Nothing could be more expressive of the enthusiastic determination of 
the North to maintain its inherited free institutions, than the sudden and 
universal popularity of this anonymous song. 



180 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

Shame on any citizen, in these times, who has not a mt'^ i 
too patriotic for partisan strife ! shame on any nominal Chi w- 
tian who has not a heaii; too large for sectarian controversy ! 
I believe to-day is not the day for any discussion, but iiow 
best we can save our country and save souls ; that among 
citizens there are only two classes, — pati-iots and traitors ; 
among believers, only two classes also, — those who love God 
and Christ and man, and those who love them not. This 
love of the Father and his Son and our brother man, — this 
is the ' tlu-eefold cord which cannot be broken ' ; for it is vital 
religion, — the bond which connects the soul of man to his 
God, and with all that is goodly or may be made such. 

" Every Sabbath, I now preach in the morning at the Hy- 
geia Hospital, just outside the fortress, where I have been 
appointed as chaplain pro tern. ; and in the afternoon, in the 
encampment of my o-svn regiment, whose service I never make 
subordinate to any other duty. The attendance by the regi- 
ment is nearly, if not quite universal, and a more quiet, decorous 
congregation I would not ask. The men are mustered into 
their respective companies, and, led by their officers, march 
to the parade-ground, where they foi-m a hollow square. In 
the centre a rude platform is erected, on which the chaplain 
stands. The officers and soldiers are generally fuiTiished, by 
the liberality of the Unitarian Association, with the Army 
Melodies, from which they sing. These simple and cheerful 
strains are better adapted to the soldier than any more foniial 
tunes. They evidently enjoy them ; and from every tent, 
at night, you will hear the soldiers singing ' Homeward 
Bound/ 'Joyfully,' * Freedom's Era,' 'The Star-Spangled 
Banner,' 'We are Marching On,' etc. Nothing is more 
refining and elevating, nothing more religious in its tendency, 
than good music, when accompanjang patriotic or devout 
words; at least, this has been my experience among the 
poldiers here and at the hospital, and in other regiments with 
whom it has been my fortune to come in contact. 



FORTRESS MONROE. 181 

" But the instniraentality which jit present seems most 
potent for good, is the social contei-ence and prayer meeting. 
This is hehi in front of my tent every evening, and is as or- 
derly, and more nnmei'ously attended than any vestry-meeting 
in New England. 

" We conduct it rather differently from any other with which 
I am acquainted. The first half-hour is devoted to hearing 
from the chaplain an account of what is going on in the great 
world from which we are comparatively isolated. Few sol- 
diers can afford to take any daily papers, or buy those which 
occaijionally are brought to our camp. It seems to me a pait 
of my duty to inform them of any items which come to my 
knowledge, whether of a national or literary nature. Above 
all, any news from dear old Massachusetts, and best-beloved 
Middlesex County, where our homes aie, is welcome indeed. 
Then we spend about ten minutes in conversation as to 
topics upon which the chaplain can give counsel, — how the 
soldier can safely transmit money to wife or mother, how 
break himself of a habit of profanity, or any one of a hun- 
dred questions he desires to ask. Perhaps he wants to tell, 
himself, some news from the quiet town from whence he and 
his company come. After these few minutes' talk are over, 
there is a decorous silence, broken at last by the voice of 
prayer ; and then an hour is spent in prayer and conference, 
and in frequent singing of familiar hymns from the Melodies. 
Both officers and soldiers participate in these meetings, 
several of the captains and lieutenants being members of 
churches." 

The discomfort at first experienced fi'om lack of a 
place of worship was soon obviated. The Chaplain 
writes : — 

" Our friends in Boston have just sent to me a beautiful 
chapel-tent for religious services. It is to be dedicated next 



182 CHAPLAIN FULLER; 

Sundav, and the vanous regimental and naval chaplains in 
this vicinity are to take part in the sei-vices. The soldiers 
are preparing wreaths of the holly, with its ruby berries, and 
live-oak, with its brilliant leaf and delicate acorns. Bouquets 
of tea-roses, and other flowers stiU blooming here in the open 
air, will also grace the tent on this occasion. I have felt that, 
being set apart for sacred uses, it should be consecrated by a 
regular dedication service. I assure you that no congrega- 
tion ever felt more grateful than my army congregation, that 
they have now a place of shelter from ram or heat or cold, 
or the miwholesome evening au'. We shall not usually need 
it for day-services while the weather is as pleasant as now ; 
but it will grow colder; the chilly sea-winds will soon sweep 
over this exposed Point Comfort, and our evening prayer- 
meetings were already impracticable till this tent came." 

This cliapel-tent, which the Chaplain, iii a home 
letter, calls " his pride and his joy," was the first 
Lord's tabernacle pitched among the army tents dur- 
ing the war of the Rebellion, and it was suitably con- 
secrated with exercises which the Chaplain thus de- 
scribes : — 

"Yesterday was a noteworthy day with the Sixteenth 
Massachusetts Regiment, for on it we dedicated our beau- 
tiful tabernacle tent. This tent was presented to us by 
various patriotic and benevolent citizens of Boston, who 
desii-e that religious services may not necessarily be sus- 
pended during the sultry heat of summer, or during the fall 
of the rain, so copious in Virginia, and that our evening 
prayer and temperance meetings may not necessarily be held 
in the open air. The subscriptions were secured by a most 
excellent lady, and she receives the grateful acknowledg- 
ments of our entire regiment. The day of dedication was 
also Forefathers' Day (Dec. 22), which was very appropriate 



FORTRESS MONROE. 183 

for a Massachusetts regiment, having their tabernacle in the 
wilderness, as did their fathers. The presence of Hon. Charles 
R. Train, Representative in Congress from that district of our 
State from which the entire regiment comes, was most oppor- 
tune. As his stay could only be for a few hours, and the 
dedication of an army tent is a patriotic as well as religious 
occasion, our chaplain cordially invited him to make one of 
the addresses, which he did in a most eloquent and accept- 
able manner, and in a spirit every way appropriate to the 
solemn service. 

" Both army and navy chaplains participated in the exer- 
cises. The chaplains were representatives of nearly every 
sect, including Roman Catholic, but there was entire har- 
mony, and a sweet blending of devout sentiment and Chris- 
tian, patriotic utterance. Chaplains from North and South 
East and West, were there, and from sea and shore, yet no 
discordant note was uttered. The tabernacle tent was 
trimmed with holly and live-oak wreaths and crosses, made 
Ijy the soldiers with a taste which would have surprised our 
female friends. The ladies of the Hygeia Hospital, who were 
present, contributed a beautiful cross of mingled evergreen 
and flowers. Our regimental band played the ' Star-Spangled 
Banner ' admirably, and the regimental choir sang the hymns 
written for the occasion in a manner which elicited, as it 
deserved, much praise. Rev. Mr. Fuller's dedication dis- 
course was founded on the text in Isaiah iv. 6, — 'And 
there shall be a tabernacle, for a shadow in the daytime 
from the heat, and for a place of refuge and for a covert 
from storm and rain.' " * 

* The hymns for the dedication are in a vein suited to the occasion. The 
first is from the pen of Dr. 0. Evarts, Surgeon of the Twentieth Indiana 
Regiment. 

" From home and kindred far away, 
Upon this soil we bend the knee, 
And, from the midst of war's army, 
Thv children still, — we look to Thee ! 



184 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

The house of worship having been obtained, an 
army church was organized. 

" An Army Christian Association has been formed in the 
Sixteenth Massachusetts Regiment, at Camp Hamikon, near 
the fortress, which promises most beneficent results. It sup- 
phes the place of our parish and church organizations at 
home, and gives the chaplain of the regiment some rehable 
coadjutors in his religious duties. The members of churches 
scattered throughout a regiment find some nucleus about 
which they can rally, and thus become identified as Christian 
disciples. Soldiers also longing to break from the thraldom 
of sin, and feeling as never before the need of being Clu-is- 
tians, find here a home and sympathy and loving watch-care. 
I look upon it as the most important movement of a moral 
and rehgious nature yet inaugurated in the regiment. It 
receives not only professing Christians into its fold, but 
all who desire to be guided by Christian principles; nor is 

" No love of self, no lust of power, 

Nor gi-eed of gold, hath brought us here; 
But, in thine own good time and hour, 
We come to see thy light appear. 

" Let * use,' not ' fame,' inspire our arms, 
And our first love be love for Thee ! 
That Freedom, with her heavenly charms, 
May make us, also, truly free ! 

" And when, Father, over all ! 

Nor in this tent, — nor in this field, — 
In life's great battle we shall fall, 
bear us oflf upon thy shield ! " 

The following was also written for the occasion: — 

" To Christians in New England homes, 
Where sons of pilgrims love to dwell. 
Once more the ancient summons comes, 
' Up to your tents, Israel ! ' 

" We come, but trust not princes, Lord, 
Nor arm of flesh, nor human skill ; 



FORTRESS MONROE. 185 

it restricted in membersliip to any sect or to Protestants, 
but welcomes all who desire to be guided by duty and 
acknowledge fealty to the law of God. It may lead to a 
church organization ultimately; but if so, its basis must be 
equally simple and truly liberal. This is no place for the 
building up of any sect or combination of sects, but for the 
upbuilding of the kingdom of the Redeemer in the hearts of 
all who desire to be soldiers of Jesus Christ while soldiers in 
the American army." 

Nor was this church inactive. The Chaplain writes : — 

" On Tuesday evening we have a meeting for prayer and 
counsel. It is conducted just like our church and class 
meetings at home, only, thank God ! we know no name but 
the all-prevailing one of Jesus, the divine and ever-blessed 
Redeemer. It is under the special care of a most excellent 
soldier, J. A. Smith, who is a local Methodist preacher, and 
untiring in his rehgious efforts here. 

With faith we lean upon thy word, 
The counsels of thy holy will 1 

" For thy pavilion, Lord of hosts ! 

We pitch the chief tent of the field; 
Thy leadership the army boasts, 
And trusts thee more than sword or shield ! 

*' Here, in thy temple, still thou art, 
Where voices in devotion rise, 
Hymned with the melody of heart, 
To own and bless the sacrifice ! 

" Throughout the camp may earnest heed 
To truth, here uttered, be bestowed ! 
For none so much as soldiers need 
To lean upon the arm of God ! 

" ' How amiable, Lord of hosts, 
Thy tabernacle ! ' shall exclaim 
The soul that in salvation boasts. 
Adoring here God's holy name ! " 



186 ^ CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

"The chaplain finds in these brethren noble coadjutors, 
and desires thej should have full and ample credit for their 
aid. They ask no such praise, yet they most thoroughly de- 
serve it. But for their hearty and earnest co-operation little 
could have been accomplished for the spiritual welfare of 
the soldiery. This Tuesday evening meeting is especially 
valuable to strengthen the hearts of Christians and prevent 
their becoming weary in well-doing, or being tempted to de- 
sert the ranks of the army of the living God, and enlisting 
in the service of sin, whose bitter, hard-earned wages are 
spiritual death. Away from home and home influence, that 
man is arrogant indeed who believes he stands so firm that 
he is in no danger of falluig if he neglect to seek loving,- fra- 
ternal watch-care, and Chi-istian sympathy." 

The tabernacle worship was not without musical aid. 
The Chaplain says : — 

" A choir has been formed in the regiment, composed of 
officers and soldiers, for conducting the musical services of 
the sanctuary on the Sabbath, and at our other meetmgs. It 
is duly organized by the choice of chorister and organist and 
the assignment of the regular parts of music. I say organist, 
for we have at present a very sweet-toned melodeon, which 
formerly belonged to a secessionist young lady at the Hamp- 
ton Female Seminary, and has been Idndly loaned us for a 
few weeks by the military authorities." 

The Chaplain congratulates the Old Dominion ' upon 
the introduction of the New England system of free 
schools. 

"The American army, especially the Massachusetts sol- 
diery, are fast transplantmg Northern ideas and New Eng- 
land institutions to the sacred soil of Virginia. They will 
flourish well here, we doubt not, unless overshadowed by the 
Upas-tree of slavery, beneath whose poisonous shadow every 



FORTRESS MONROE. . 187 

gcK)d and Christian plant sickens, aiid ultimately must die, 
except the axe be laid at the root of that tree, and it 'be 
hewn do^vn and cast into the fire.' This week we commenced 
a school in the .chapel-tent of the Sixteenth Massachusetts 
Regiment, under the superintendence of the chaplain of the 
regiment, assisted by five competent teachers selected by him 
from among the non-commissioned officers and private soldiers. 
As its tuition is absolutely free to all who attend it, it may 
certainly be denominated a free school, and, so far as the 
writer knows, is the first entirely free school in Virginia, \vith 
the exception of those established for the contrabands here. 
God grant that this New England plant may take root and 
thrive ! 

" We have scholars in all the primary branches, — in writ- 
ing, — in fine, just the same branches are taught as in the 
conxmon district schools of New England." 

The Chaplain also organized a Soldiers' Teachers' 
Association, whose objects are thus set forth : — 

" The teachers who have in charge the regimental school 
feel the need of unity of plan and counsel, and to compai'e 
and agree upon methods of instruction together. They, 
therefore, are to hold meetings every Friday evening for 
these purposes, at the tent or ' log-cabin ' of the chaplain. It 
is my intention, in some future letter, to give the names of 
those non-commissioned officers and private soldiers, who so 
nobly devote themselves to instructing their fellow-soldiers, 
with no reward but the pleaiiure of doing good. Lest it should 
be thought strange that so many could bQ found hi a Massa- 
chusetts regiment who need primary-school instruction, it 
ought to be mentioned that all, or nearly all, the scholars 
are of foreign parentage, and have not had early advantages, 
through no fault of their own. 

" They are earnest for knowledge, and though a holiday was 



188 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

given yesterday, because of the illness of the chaplain, and no 
school is regularly held on Saturday, the men declined the 
holiday, and the school was continued both yesterday and 
on Saturday, by the assistant teachers, at the urgent request 
of the men. There has not yet been a smgle instance of 
insubordination or disrespectful word or look on the part 
of these earnest scholars, who, though uncultured, desire 
strongly improvement, and are deeply grateful for the 
opportunity afforded them. God bless them and their 
noble soldier-teachers ! " 

The true New-Englander, though duty may call 
him to don the martial garb and repair to the tented 
field, yet does not leave his religion behind him, and 
cherishes still the emblems of its continued presence 
and power. The hallowed chime of the home Sabbath 
bells cannot indeed be heard, but the sacred day is re- 
membered. The Chaplain thus alludes to its observ- 
ance : — 

" Yesterday was even more than usually a hard-working day 
with me. The idea of rest for the clergy on the Sabbath is 
certainly obsolete. I held two services with my own regi- 
ment in their chapel-tent, and then, by request of the First 
Delaware Eegiment, preached in their encampment to a 
kind and attentive audience. It seemed a Httle singular to 
me to be invited to preach to a congregation all of them from 
a slaveholding State, and many of them slaveholders, and 
none of them Unitarians. It certainly is not because my 
views of State poHcy or Christian truth are unknown here, 
though I am no partisan or sectarian anywhere. The chap- 
lain of tliis regiment, an Old-School Presb}i:erian, is now 
absent ; and I understand it was at his suggestion the invita- 
tion was given me. I enjoyed much the occasion. On my 
way thither, I was requested to visit a dying soldier in the 



FORTRESS MONROE. 189 

hospital of the Ninety-ninth New York Regiment (Naval 
Brigade). It was a sad, sad sight, — that young man dying 
far away from home ! Yet the kind attentions of every sol- 
dier present, and their sympathy with the sufferer, must 
have soothed him, and also his parents, could they know 
of it, when tidings reach them that their son's last battle is 
fought." 

The Pilgrim days of Fast and Thanksgiving v^ere 
also duly honored. Of the former the Chaplain 

writes : — 

" This was solenmly obseiTed in our regiment. Indeed, 
the day seemed more like Sabbath than almost any since 
we left home. At ten o'clock in the morning a discourse was 
preached to the attentive bongregation of soldiery by the chap- 
lain of the regiment. His text was Isaiah Iviii. 5, 6, and he 
dealt franldy with sins individual and national, pointing out 
the only remedy in forsaking as well as repenting of them. 
God will judge our nation till we do righteousness and ' break 
every yoke and let the oppressed go free.' This is the part 
he requires at our hands. But we must be patient and bide 
his time, assured that it will come." 

Thanksgiving, too, was grateftilly observed, though 
a shadow rested on the feast. The Chaplain writes : — 

" A few weeks since, I recollect hearing a person of some- 
what despondent turn of mind remarking that 'governors 
must have hard work writing their proclamations for Thanks- 
giving this year,' as our country had met with httle else than 
reverses, and these must cause suffering in every loyal State, 
while Massachusetts particularly had been called to mourn 
many of her most loyal and brave officers and soldiers, either 
perishing on the battle-field or pining in rebel prisons. Then 
came Governor Andrew's proclamation, answering bravely 



190 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

all this sceptical and ungrateful feeling, which existed in more 
hearts than one. I think it the best Thanksgiving proclama- 
tion I ever read, — so noble, so heroic, so pre-eminently 
Christian. And yet that proclamation was written while 
we were still smarting beneath defeat, and Massachusetts 
herself bleeding at every pore as a result of the repulse 
at Ball's Bluff. But now the scene has changed. The 
winter of our discontent has become glorious summer 
again, and the most short-sighted of mortals can recognize 
the loving hand of God stretched forth to save this Israel. 
Truly we see now causes for devout, joyous, yet solemn 
thanksgivmg. And we Massachusetts soldiers are to ob- 
serve our State Thanksgiving also. Yesterday the chap- 
lain read at divine service the Governor's proclamation, and 
annoudced that he should hold services next Thursday 
morning, and preach a sermon appropriate to the occasion, 
in accordance with regular Massachusetts usage. 

" And yet our friends must not blame us if our Thanks- 
giving has its cloud as well as sunshine, and we cannot be 
merry as in bygone days. Perhaps this will be more in 
"unison with the purpose of the day than has been the former 
method of its observance by many of us. We are away from 
home, and we shall feel the fact more on that day than any 
other of the whole year. The sweet voices which have been 
the music of our dwellings will not fill our tents and our 
hearts with melody ; the smiles of loving wives and children, 
which have been our sunsliine, will not gleam on our path- 
way. Yes, we shall have sad as well as joyful hours here 
next Thursday, and beneath the rose of happiness will be the 
wounding thorn of pain. And will they not miss us at home, 
too ? O, how many vacant chairs" in the domestic circles ! 
It is not because we do not love our homes and the dear 
inmates, that we are absent, but because we do love them 
eo strongly as to be willing to peril life in their defence. 



FORTRESS MONROE. 191 

And then, too, we shall think of our many brave soldier- 
brothers who have offered life upon their country's altar, and 
of Massachusetts homes, O so many ! where the places re- 
cently vacated will never be filled again by the noble men 
who once occupied them. Ah, well ! our harp of Thanks- 
giving will have its chords of solemn and sad as well as 
of joyous strain, and our day of rejoicing may know not 
only the sunshine of smiles, but a few rain-drop? of tears in 
private, wliich we hope are not unmanly. Yet God bids us 
be glad, and truly has he given us rich and abundant cause 
for gratitude. We may soon meet again those friends who 
are in our earthly homes ; and those brave brothers who have 
died so gloriously for their country, we, if faithful, shall surely 
meet them in the home which is heavenly, and on that day 
whose thanksgiving shall be eternal." 

In his religious labors the Chaplain fully appreciated 
the aid of the Bible and Tract. To the American 
Bible Society he writes : — 

" The liberal provision made by your society for the sup- 
ply of religious reading to the regiment of which I am in 
charge as chaplain entitles you to some account of the dis- 
tribution of these ' leaves for the healing of the nations ' ; 
and certainly most of the leaves of your books do grow on 
' the Tree of Life,' judging by those which I have received 
from your depository. I am not of the same denomination 
with yourself, as you are aware, being a clergyman of the 
Unitarian household of faith ; but I most cheerfully bid 
' God speed ' to your society in its holy work. 

" Is it not one blessed result of this present strife for free- 
dom and righteousness, that different religious sects can thus 
co-operate together in the warfare against sin, as divisions in 
the aniiy of the living God, just a,s different regiments in the 
ai-my of our country, can strive side by side against trea>son 
and rebellion ? 



192 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

" Our Catholic soldiers receive and read the Bible most 
cheerfully, as a general rule. I do not seek to proselyte 
them, thinking it would be wrong in the position I occupy, 
but I do endeavor to aid them in the religious inquiries 
which naturally arise in their minds, and in that work 
*the word of God is quick and powerful.' 

" I thank God, too, that your society does not blink the great 
question of the inalienable rights of man. God bless all who 
* remember those who are in bonds as bound with them,' and 
may He * who maketh the wrath of the heathen to praise him,* 
bring out of this fearful but holy strife that noble era when 
' the sun shall not rise on a master or set on a slave.' " 

Again lie says : — 

" Whatever new inventions there may be of warlike weap- 
ons and implements offensive and defensive, the Old Bay 
State believes that the shield of faith and helmet of salvation 
and breastplate of righteousness can never be supplanted, and 
that no man is thoroughly furnished for our country's defence 
without these and the Spirit's sword. 

" Company K of my regiment were presented each man 
with a Bible by the Methodist Church in Watertown, Massa- 
chusetts, before leaving home, and though many were Catho- 
lics, yet no man refused the gift. The Massachusetts Bible 
Society have donated about five hundred Bibles and Testa- 
ments in addition, all of which bear the imprint of the Amer- 
ican Bible Society. They have all been called for, and, with 
those given as parting gifts by wives and mothers, there can 
be but few in this regunent not now supplied, and I know 
many, very many, would on a march part with every other 
book, or even much clothing, sooner than leave behind their 
Bible. If the knapsack be too full to hold it, why then the 
owner would wear it in his bosom to shield in the day of 
battle the heart its divine truths had first purified. 



FORTRESS MONROE. 193 

" 111 two of our companies, probably the majority are pro- 
fessing Christians, and are here as actively engaged, as the 
rules of camp life will permit, in organizing Sabbath schools 
among the contrabands and poor whites in tliis region." 

Nor w^as that cause forgotten wliicli not only results 
from, but clears the way for, true religion, and which 
the Chaplain had loved from childhood, — temperance. 
We have the following account of it. 

" We celebrated the close of the year 1861 by forming in 
the Sixteenth Massachusetts Regiment a Division of the Sons 
of Temperance. At an early hour the new chapel-tent of 
the regiment was filled to overflowing with soldiers eager to 
listen to an exposition of the principles of the organization, 
and to unite in the movement, if it commended itself to 
their judgment. Over one hundred officers and soldiers were 
proposed for initiation. Authority had been received by the 
chaplain from the Grand Division of Massachusetts to or- 
ganize this Division, which is to embrace not only soldiers of 
this regiment, but Massachusetts men connected with other 
regiments at or near Camp Hamilton, or with the naval ves- 
sels lying off the fortress. The per capita tax on divisions 
connected with the army has been kindly remitted by the 
Grand Division. Great need is felt of regalia for officei*s 
and members of these divisions.* The Grand Division 
have permitted their operations as army divisions without 
this paraphernaHa, but none more than soldiers, accustomed 
to uniforrtis, would so much appreciate and value regalia, 
and yet, away from home and with scanty means, it would 
be impossible for them to procure them. The temperance 
movement among soldiers deserves the encouragement, not 
only of professed temperance men, but of all who have at 
heart the moral welfare or wholesome discipline of the 

* These were soon afterwards generously furnished by the home organ- 

uations. 

9 M 



194 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

army. The organization in this regiment is not intended 
to supersede the old-fashioned total-abstinence society which 
has been already organized, and is efficiently working, but 
to aid its movements. Public meetings for addresses, &c., 
will continue to be held, and in the division the members 
will be encouraged to literary cffoi'ts, and the exercises 
will be diversified with recitations, essays, declamations, 
and discussions which would be impracticable in a general 
meeting, but will be of great intellectual and moral value 
to the soldiers. We need some wholesome recreation "knd 
intellectual and moral stimulus in the army, deprived as 
we are of those enjoyed at home." 

The Chaplain had some trials connected v^ith his 
army work, one of which had to do wdtli this very sub- 
ject of temperance. He w^as a staff officer, and. his 
comrades, as also other officers he met, regarded the cup 
as a pledge of good-will, and the rejection of the social 
glass as an indication of coldness or dislike. Besides, 
such of them as were without religion were especially 
pleased to see a chaplain disregard those rules of self- 
denial which might have been at home a necessity of 
the profession. A complimentary dinner, given to the 
Colonel, w^as the occasion of a trial of the Chaplain's 
temperance principles. As the pledges were drunk, 
each officer in turn, and all in chorus, in vain urged 
the Chaplain not to refuse the social proof of good- 
will. At length, however, when the affair was be- 
coming unpleasant to all parties, the Colonel rapped 
on the table, and requested three cheers for the Chap- 
lain, " a man Avhom we all honor the more, because, 
in public and private, uniformly consistent with his 
principles." 



FORTRESS MONROE. 195 

He had an earlier trial, of a different sort, in con- 
nection with the officers' mess. As an army chaplain 
has almost no secular duties assigned to him by the 
army regulations, advantage is sometimes taken of his 
obliging temper. Of one clergyman an officer re- 
marked, " his preaching is not of much account, but 
he is so convenient to do errands ! " Of Chaplain 
Fuller, it was expected that he should provide the 
officers' mess. This he found would take up so much 
of his time that he could not discharge those religious 
duties which had led him on his army mission. He 
therefore wrote a letter to the Colonel declining, for 
these reasons, the care of the mess, citing the words 
of the Apostles (Acts Vi. 2), "It is not reason that 
we should leave the word of God and serve tables." 
This affair caused a coldness for a while on the part of 
the Colonel, which was, however, dissipated upon longer 
acquaintance, and gave place to mutual appreciation. 
One of the last regulations the Colonel established, 
before his death in the Peninsular campaign, was a 
prohibition of profanity in the regiment. 

Among the coincidences between the chaplaincy at 
the fortress and the pastorate, we must not forget the 
army Parsonage ! The Chaplain thus describes it : — 

" I hope it is with no feeling of undue pride that I an 
nounce myself as a householder and house-owner here in the 
Old Dominion. Candor requires me to state, however, that 
said house consists of rude, unhewn logs, with a chimney, 
built of old bricks, in one end thereof, and a roof of boards, 
with only the cracks'between shingled. It boasts, however, a 
window, made of a sash from a secessionist's house at Hamp- 
ton, the broken panes being supplied with glass somewhat 



196 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

too large, but kept in place with tacks. The American flag 
serves as a curtain to this window, the rebel relic and the 
patriotic bunting not having quarrelled yet. Several of the 
panes in the secession window are in the same condition as 
the former owner's brain, — a little cracked ; still it serves 
well enough its purpose. My tent adjoins, and in that is 
mj kitchen, with its camp cooking-stove ; wliile the ' shanty ' 
room, with the ' fly ' of the tent over it as a roof, makes a 
good reception-room, or will do so if the weather is ever 
pleasant again. Its walls are covered with pictures from 
Harper's Weekly and Leslie's Illustrated, which please my 
soldier visitors, and occupy their attention, if obliged to 
wait a short time before seeing me. This mongrel tent- 
shanty and log-cabin would certainly be scorned as a home 
or laughed at in New England, but it is by no means des- 
picable here. A description of it may convey some idea 
to your readers of how we soldiers manage to live in Vir- 
ginia, away from home comforts and luxuries. With the 
exception of the price of a few boards, my habitation has 
at least the merit of being an inexpensive building, having 
cost nothing but the labor of building, kindly contributed by 
the soldiers of my army-congregation. They call it the 
* Parsonage,' and so I adopt that name. It is in close and 
convenient proximity to the chapel-tent." 

Aorain lie writes home : — 

" David * is beautifying about my house, setting out stately 
cypress and blooming plum and apple trees, besides currant- 
bushes and flowers. A large number of soldiers have volun- 

* David Orr, whom the Chaplain, writing from his fortress island, calls 
his good man Friday, was one of those God sent from every condition in 
life to minister to and strengthen the pastor and chaplain in his pilgrimage. 
They were like angels to him, except that they were not few nor far be- 
tween. Of David Orr he says, '■ He labors for me a great deal, and will 
accept no compensation." At another time, he writes, " The comfort of 
my life, David Orr, my good soldier-friend, accompanies me." 



FORTRESS MONROE. 197 

teered, and are making paths covered with beach-sand of 
pure white. Stars and circles cut in the sod of emerald 
green show their ingenuity, and my log-cabin promises to be 
very lovely. A tea-rose is put before each window as a sort 
of screen or curtain, and they grow so luxuriantly here as to 
promise the best possible results in an artistic point of view." 

He adds : — 

" I always have two bouquets of tea-roses and other deli- 
cate flowers for my room and for the table, and occasionally 
a ripe fig fresh from the tree." 

In a home letter he further refers to the Parson- 



" It does seem cheerless when returning at eventide to find, 
not my home and my wife, but only my tent and servant-boy. 
those returns to what should be home ! It is then that the 
sense of loneliness creeps over the heart, and, for a moment, 
love seems to triumph over patriotism, and we sigh for home. 
But, look about you! My humble tent has been boarded, 
and is to be papered. An underground brick furnace of 
curious construction I'emoves cold and dampness. A table 
Hghted with candles gladdens the heart, for on it are letters 
from my wife and dear memorials of darling children and 
of many loved ones at home, while all about the tent are 
kindly faces of soldiers who love me, and some of whom 
would, I verily believe, die for me. Ah ! I have a home, if 
a humble one, and it is a dear one, too, if another in New 
England be dearer ! " 

His attacliment to the soldiers was quite as strong 
as theirs to him. He writes : *' Money would not 
induce me to go back and leave my regiment. My 
heart is in my work here. I am doing good, and 
that pays for all." 



198 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

And soon tlie Christian reaper began to receive 
wages. He writes: "There is much religious inter- 
est in my regiment. I shotlld not be surprised if it 
resulted in a true re\dyal of religion." 

The expanded circle of sympathy and love could 
not supplant the home affection. Nor could his adult 
" boys " (as he always styled his fellow-soldiers) make 
him forget the little ones who always drew his heart. 
He writes from his island tent : — 

" Believe me, I cannot forget one flower of affection strewn 
along my pathway, nor a word spoken in season, of counsel or 
love. Little F.'s letter is one of those flowers, and from little 
G.'s shell, which I hold to my ear as she desired, I hear a 
mystic song of sweetness. Thanks for the flower and shell, 
flung by loving little hands on this margin of the sounding 
sea." 

The Chaplain's labors were by no means confined 
to his regimental parish. While he was careful to do 
this, his first and nearest duty, he was anxious not to 
leave the more remote undone. In this exterior prov- 
ince he was especially interested in the contrabands. 
He thus refers to a 

" class whom we meet within the fortress, on the exchange, 
m the encampment, everywhere, for their name is legion. 
These are the ' contrabands,' the fiigitive slaves of rebel mas- 
ters. Now we may trust they are jfree fi'om oppression, and 
that from their limbs the chains, and from their minds and 
spirits the shackles, have fallen forever. To-day these are 
not slaves, they are men ; and it must not be forgotten that 
General Butler first argued for their reception and protec- 
tion from pursuit, and giving to them honorable employment 
and treatment, such as is due to all human beings. 



FORTRESS MONROE. 199 

" I can well believe, however, tliat the question what to 
do with them embarrasses the government. Here are two 
thousand and two hundred men, women, and children tlirown 
on its guardianshij:). They impress me as a remarkably in- 
telligent class of Africans ; probably only the smartest and 
most intelligent have the energy to escape from bondage, 
or the shrewdness to accomplish it. I have seen much 
of them, and taken gi'eat pains to ascertain their condition. 

" I have attended several of their rehgious meetings. My 
friend, Chaplain Lockwood, now takes the guidance of them, 
by authority from General Wool. They are a little more 
demonstrative than I am accustomed to or suits my taste, 
but, for men and women so ignorant, less objectionable on 
this score than could be expected ; and often these fonner 
slaves possess a rude and simple eloquence which is most 
affecting. On Sabbath last, together with Brother Lock- 
wood, we performed the marriage service for some ten or 
twelve couples, at the African meeting-house, who desired 
this sacred service to sanction their domestic union, and 
which service their former masters had either forbidden or 
declared unnecessary for slaves. 

" Many of these ignorant and heretofore deeply injured 
people are now desirous of learning to read. It would touch 
any kindly heart to see how eagerly the poor creatures 
crave knowledge, which they feel to be essential to any 
progress for them as individuals or as men. By the laws 
of Virginia, to teach a slave or a free colored person to 
read is a crime, but one I would love to commit every 
day of my life. 

" The other day I attended a funeral of one of their num- 
ber. The African loves fonn, and here there was much of it, 
but nothing absurd, as I had been led to fear. They chanted 
many of their plantation religious songs. O, they were so 
mournful, so despairing (who wonders at that ?) in their 



200 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

view of this life ; but they changed to wild pgeans when 
they spoke of an immortal state. The number present 
was very large, and they were very much moved ; for the 
negro is, beyond all others, an affectionate race, and death 
touches each sympathetic chord in his feeling heart. But with 
all the demonstration of woe w^hich was made, not one note, 
not one word or deed, of those poor, ignorant, neglected, 
oppressed people was discordant to good taste or feeling." 

In another connection he says ; — 

"I have talked with many of them, and am confirmed 
daily in my faith that no genuine man, white or black, was 
ever satisfied with slavery, and that the normal condition of 
every race and individual is freedom. Their situation here 
is now much improved, and benevolence is doing much for 
their welfare, while the authorities are not negligent of their 
comfort. 

" However sad this war may have made many of us, it 
certainly has brought, and must yet bring, much blessing to 
the oppressed and enslaved African. These thi-ee thousand 
at and near the fortress, who by the war have been made 
FREE, — they indeed may and should fill the aii' with songs 
of solemn thanksgiving. And they do rejoice, but not with 
noisy hilarity. They come together rather with prayer for 
the diffusion yet more widely of the boon of freedom. Yes- 
terday, though a holiday and a day of unutterable gladness 
to this long-suffering people, I saw not one colored person 
intoxicated, nor heard of one in that condition." 

Again, referring to the contrabands, he writes : — 

" Every day brings fresh arrivals of these fugitives from 
bondage. As the enemy withdraws, a portion of his prop- 
erty is destroyed by fire, and thus takes to itself wings of 
smoke and flame and flies away, and other ' property,' house- 
hold chattels, takes to itself legs, and runs off to the fortress 



FORTRESS MONROE. 201 

as fast as possible. Ungrateful beings, to desert masters and 
mistresses who have been so kind, and to leave a state of 
servitude which South-Side clergymen declare to be almost 
Elysium ! What ignorant fools, to prefer freedom to slavery ! 

" And here let me contradict a report, that the contrabands 
in this region are unwillmg to work, and have many of them 
run back to their masters. Both statements involved in this 
report ai-e untrue. The contrabands are, as a general thing, 
willing to labor, though complaining much that the govern- 
ment does not pay them wages, as they had been led to 
expect. But I speak from personal observation, when I 
say they are anxious for any employment reasonably re*- 
mimerative. My tent-door has been besieged with applica- 
tions from boys and men desii-ing to be servants. I was 
over-persuaded, at last, to tal^e a contraband youth into my 
service for a few days, who proved diligent, faitliful, and 
industrious beyond my expectations. I had engaged another 
serA-ant for the place, who yesterday arrived ; but I have 
seen enough of this poor African lad to know that some of 
his race, at least, are skilful, truthful, and energetic. On 
board the United States flag-ship Minnesota, there is a boat's 
crew of contrabands. I was assured by one of the officers 
the other day, when visiting the frigate, that this crew ex- 
celled in fidehty, and was the only one which needed not 
an officer to accompany them when they went ashore, as 
not a man of them would get drunk or desert. 

"As to their returning to rebeldom, it would not have 
been a matter of surprise if some few of a race proverbially 
affectionate had returned to their former homes and masters 
(no doubt some of them kind ones), and, above all, to their 
kindred left behind when they fled ; but, after thorough 
inquiry, I cannot hear of one such instance, and am assured, 
by those who are in a position to know, that not one such 
case has occurred. I have been thus particular in this refu- 
9* 



202 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

tation, because here the colored race are being tested asto 
their desire for freedom and adaptedness to it. The question 
is one winch must and will soon interest the whole nation, 
and a decision cannot long be postponed." 

He gives an instance of service rendered by the 
contrabands : — ^ 

"The Sixteenth were paid off a day or two since, but I 
question whether that agreeable incident gave them as much 
pleasure as an exploit by Company F of this regiment, under 
Captain C R. Johnson, of Lexington. This energetic com- 
pany were on picket-guard a few nights since, when some 
slaves (ever our friends and the friends of the Union, when 
that is understood to mean freedom) gave notice that two 
rebel spies were about Fox Hill, near our pickets. A patrol 
was sent promptly out, consisting of only four men, under the 
conmiand of Sergeant Morris, the two slaves acting as guides. 
The patrol force proceeded under this guidance to the house 
of a Mr. Topping, who has heretofore made loud pretensions 
of Union and loyal sentim^its, has taken with the utmost 
cheerfulness the oath of allegiance, and had a pass and pro- 
tection from the federal mihtary authorities, yet nevertheless 
has been a traitorous spy, and actually in the service of the 
rebel army as their sutler. 

" He has been in the habit of procuring gold here, and 
exchanging it for Confederate bonds for a high premium. 
He has also procured other supplies, especially information, 
of which the rebels have always stood, and still do stand, m 
.reat need, though not of the sort Mr. Topping has given 
them. On arriving at the house, Mrs. Topping assured Ser- 
creant Morris that her husband was not at home, which fash- 
ionable announcement our soldiers decUned believing. She 
protested ' on her honor as a Southern lady' that he was not 
ill the liouse, but absent in the rebel service, and she ' had 



FORTRESS MONROE. 203 

not seen him for three months/ but Sergeant Morris dis- 
trusted tlie lady's eyesight and word, rather than that of the 
whilom slaves who acted as guides. 

''After search, the sutler was found attempting to go 'on 
tick,' in spite of our boys' declaration of ' no trust,' which a 
sutler ought to understand. In other words, he was found 
by our distrustful soldiers snugly ensconced between two 
bed-ticks, whence he was rather roughly dragged forth by 
Sergeant Morris. Subsequent search revealed his pocket- 
book, coutaming several confederate bonds, several rebel 
passes, and his 'protection,' now outlawed." 

And here follows a picture of a woman of the de- 
spised race : — 

" Do any of your readers remember my writing, a while 
since, about a noble and gifted colored woman in this neigh- 
borhood. I\Ir3. Peak, and her sweet little daughter, called by 
the f^oldicrs ' little Daisy ' ? Mrs. Peak, her husband and 
child, would scarcely be known as colored persons, being 
almost white, and the child having blue eyes and long, flow- 
ing brown hair. 

" Mrs. Peak has nearly all her life been a teacher. She 
was an accoraphshed scholar, and possessed a singularly gifted 
mind, and all her talents she devoted, unselfishly, to the eleva- 
tion of her own race. She might have easily separated her- 
self from them ; she was free-bom, and though her husband 
had been a slave, he had years since purchased his freedom, 
and, by his industry and her exertions, had earned a goodly 
property, so that, before the fire at Hampton, he owned two 
houses and several thousand dollars. All was lost by that 
rebel incendiary conflagration. But she refused to separate 
herself from the race with whom she acknowledged kindred 
blood, which, though slight in her veins, was never forgotten 
in her heart. She established a school here for the ' contra- 



204 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

bands,' the first of its kind ; she devoted herself to gratuitous 
teaching, and doing this in a cold room, the best her means 
could procure, soon became sick ; consumptive symptoms 
were aggravated, and she was confined to her bed. Even 
there and then she taught the poor colored children. But 
her end was near. 

" At midnight, Sunday, the cry, ' Twelve o'clock and all 's 
well ! ' came over the waters from every naval vessel in our 
harbor. It was ' all well ' with Mrs. Peak then, for at that 
moment she breathed her last sigh, felt her last throb of pain, 
and ' passed on ' from midnight's gloom of earth to the high 
noon Off radiant Heaven. I saw and prayed with her on the 
last day of life. That day was as calm, as holy and happy, 
as any of her earthly days could ever have been. She loved 
to sing, and sung then, ' Homeward Bound,' and ' There is 
rest for the weary,' tunes which our soldiers sing from the 
Army Melodies, and the contrabands are not slow in learning 
and applying in their own hours of sorrow. Mrs. Peak was 
a remarkable woman, irrespective of her race, and deserves 
to be ever remembered. Like Moses of old, she refused to 
be separated from her despised and enslaved people, or to 
be exempt from their trials ; and chose rather to suffer afflic- 
tion with them than to enjoy worldly pleasure." 

Chaplain Fuller was glad to mingle his services with 
those of the noble philanthropists, who, by caring for 
the sick and wounded soldier, have won fadeless lau- 
rels, if not of earthly honor, at least of that heavenly 
fame, which 

" lives and spreads aloft in those pure eyes, 
And perfect witness of all-judging Jove, 
As he pronounces lastly on each deed." 

He says of the Hygeia Hospital : — 

"This is admirably conducted under the skilful superin- 



FORTRESS MOXROE. 205 

tendence of Dr. Cuyler, surgeon in the regular army, and 
long a resident at the fortress. Here, too, are refined ladies 
as nurses of the sick, under the appointment secured by INIiss 
Dix, who has been indefatigable in her care of all the army 
hospitals. Several of the sick soldiers of the Sixteentli Regi- 
ment were quartered here, and it seemed good to see a woman's 
kindly face again, and have her gentle ministry in our weary 
and painful hours. Here, too, I find many wounded soldiers 
of the Great Bethel fight, — some Germans, some Amer- 
icans, and all so patient, so willing to lose life or limb for 
their native or adopted country, and only mourning that tliey 
did not acliieve a victory. It is a privilege to visit and jjray 
with such noble men. God bless the wounded soldiers of our 
patriotic army, and send them always as good care as they 
get from the physicians and nurses of this hospital at Old 
Point Comfort. Once this was the hotel of Virginia. Here 
President Buchanan loved to come, not forgetting to bring 
his ' old rye ' as a companion. In the very room I occupy, 
and whence I write. Senator Mason, only last year, in the 
summer, was an occupant. These walls have looked on 
many a nest of rebels, and listened to many a plot of treason. 
" In the beautiful hall, with its splendid mirrors, once the 
ball-room of the Hygeia Hotel, we held our religious ser- 
vices yesterday. Your correspondent preached from the text, 
Isaiah xxxiii. 24 : 'And the inhabitants shall not say I am 
sick ; the people that dwell therein shall be forgiven their 
iniquity.' My effort was to point to the heavenly land and 
its hopes, as a golace for the trials of this, and to show the 
sick and wounded soldiery, that if their physical wounds are 
gained in their country's cause, and are patiently endured; if, 
too, they are ' soldiers of the living God,* as well as loyal 
American soldiers, all such shall ultimately be victors, — 
'conquerors though they're slain,' — and shall dwell forever 
in that land no one of whose inhabitants need to say, ' I am 
aick.' " 



206 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

Again, upon the same topic, he writes : — 

" Yesterday was a good day for us, and seemed more than 
usual hke a Sunday at home. It is not our custom to have 
preachuig in the morning, as camp duties interfere with it 
early, and by ten o'clock A. M. it becomes insufferably hot. 
Your correspondent was, therefore, again enabled to hold 
services at the Hygeia Hospital, with the sick and wounded 
soldiers there. It was a great gratification to find Miss Dix 
present, from Washington, who came to the fortress person- 
ally to investigate the sanitary condition of our soldiery 
in the hospitals and camps. In the afternoon Dr. McCay, 
Miss Dix, and the writer visited each of the hospitals, as far 
as practicable, and the fine seminary building near Hampton, 
which will doubtless be used as a hospital in winter, and 
afford most comfortable quarters for the sick. O how 
the countenances of the wounded or ill gleamed with glad- 
ness as they saw once more a woman's friendly face, and 
heard her kindly voice. The soldiers of the Sixteenth, sick 
or well, were delighted as she inquired into their wants and 
condition. God bless all who seek to comfort and soothe the 
suffering among our brave men, and those, too, who tell them 
how to avoid illness and make hardship seem Ught." 

After these labors of the day he preached in the 
evening to the contrabands. 

He also writes to his family from the fortress, that 

" the new seminary hospital has just been opened a quarter of 
a mile from here. It has six hundred and eighty patients, and 
I am the only army chaplain to visit and comfort the poor 
fellows. I go almost daily to pray with the sick and dying, 
and bury the dead. It is very trying ; but I am sustained in 
looking on ghastly wounds and pallid faces, and hearing dying 
gi'oans. Ah! how serious life looks to me now! I shall 
never be very gay again, I think, though always cheerful. 



FORTRESS MONROE. 207 

Usefulness, goodness, not happiness, seem to me now the 
great objects of existence, and, to make each other nobler 
and better, our chief duty." 

In connection with the hospitals, lie also says : — 

" This hospital is admirably conducted at the fortress, so 
fai* as attendance upon the sick is concerned, by the kind and 
noble ladies who have charge of that department. Soldiers, 
when sick, go there dreading the confinement and treatment, 
but soon they learn alike to love and honor the saintly ma- 
tron, ]\Irs. DuUey, and her worthy associates. I do not use 
too strong a term when I say saintly, for what else is it for 
a cultivated and intellectual woman thus to leave home, and 
devote herself to the sick and wounded soldiers, receiving but 
a poor pittance as wages for the most exacting toil ? I am a 
constant visitor of the hospital here, and speak advisedly 
when I use these strong words of commendation." 

Of Mrs. Dulley he says, in a letter to his wife : 
" Next to my mother and sister and Lizzie and you, I 
honor her most of the women I have known in real 
life." In a published letter he says, that she 

" is loved by every soldier who has ever come under her care. 
They regard her as a mother, and she could not be more ten- 
der, more kindly in her care of her own brave sons, than she 
is of these wounded and dying soldiers. I know if this trib- 
ute ever meets her eye she will deprecate its praise ; but after 
months of viewing her laborious self-sacrifice in a public hos- 
pital, and hearing from so many soldiers yet more fervent 
words of praise and blessing, I cannot refrain from this testi- 
monial. If ever we have a saints' calendar hi our church, 
the name of this devoted woman, who so long has toiled 
amid sickness and danger and death, must not lie forgotten." 

Of a death in the hospital of his regiment he writes : — 



208 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

" A few days since, there died within its limits a young 
man named James Kavanagh ; and a most solemn sight 
was presented, as his company came to take their last look at 
their comrade. He was dressed in his soldier's uniform, though 
his battles are all over. He looked calm and joyous in death, 
and as if the flag of his country, which draped his coffin, called 
to his face one glad, lo\^ng, triumphant smile. For that flag, 
and what it symbolizes, he died, as truly as if he had perished 
on the battle-field, ^nd not of typhoid fever in the hospital. 
It was touching to see on a table near, unopened letters, di- 
rected to him, whose loving words he will never read. Poor 
James ! And yet we cannot pity him, but honor rather the 
memory of one whose sweet privilege it was to die for his 
country." 

He thus refers to another death : — 

" An orderly sergeant of Company H, after calling the roll 
of his company, went to the hospital, and almost instantly 
expired. He seemed sleeping in his chair, but on examina- 
tion he, too, had passed on to answer the solemn roll-call 
which is ever being responded to by that innumerable com- 
pany who are constantly hearing the summons of the ' great 
Captain of our salvation.' Death on the battle-field, — that 
is sad, though glorious, but death in tent or hospital, with no 
mother or wife to close the dying eyes, though equally the 
result of a patriotic performance of duty, that death seems 
sadder ; and a funeral, with no relative to follow the bier, 
vv^ith only the soldierly train, and martial though plaintive 
music, ah ! that seems saddest of all. Die when I may, let 
me be buried at home, and let my dust mingle with that of 
* kindred and loved ones.' " 

Again lie writes home of the Seminary Hospital : — 

" We average three funerals a day. Though none of my 
regiment ai'e in this hospital, and I have no official duty in 



FORTRESS MONROE. 209 

connection with it, yet it is without a chaplain, and I cannot 
know of such a spot without seeking to do all in my power 
for these dear brother-soldiers, sufferinfr, dying, far from 
home ! O how small seem the trials and hardships which 
the majority endure, compared with the sufferings of these 
men ! I am weary of any plaint from the favored of earth 
when I compare their homes and their luxuries with the lot 
of the wounded and sick soldiers. The other day I prayed 
with and addressed the wounded Vermonters, one hundred in 
number, in the seventh ward of the liygeia Hospital. They 
were sweetly patient and bravely cheerful, though many have 
lost a limb, and many more will never leave those beds on 
which they lie until borne forth to burial in a stranger's and a 
soldier's grave, with only a pine head-board, on which their 
names are pencilled, to mark their resting-place." 

Victory was a potent physician. The Chaplain 
says : — 

" I visited the hospitals yesterday, and found the wounded 
and sick soldiers there so improved that I wondered for 
a while what patent elixir they had taken to make them all 
feel so much better and make light account of wounds re- 
ceived in their country's service, or of disease which had 
laid its hands upon them in her camps, but soon found that 
the charmed medicine was a specific and panacea for all 
their complaints, and is labelled Victory. Ask tliera what 
Iial wrought tlie change, and tliey would tell you that IMill 
Spiing, Fort Henry, and Roanoke had been their physicians, 
till the lame could almost leap for joy, and tlie most weary 
and disejxse-stricken take up thi*ir beds and marcli forth to 
sliaie in further conquests. The released prisoners from 
Kiclimond, whose wounds were too severe to permit them 
to go to their homes when landed here, were not among the 
least joyous." 

N 



210 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

In these hospitals the wounded and sick rebel prison- 
ers were nursed as tenderly as Union soldiers, and it 
was sometimes charo-ed that the former were the most 
tenderly cared for, in the anxiety of Unionists to heap 
coals of fire upon the enemy's head, while they 
.evinced also that in their holy war hate was not en- 
listed and love had not been left at home. The Chap- 
lain often spoke touchingly of sick and wounded rebels, 
who at first repelled his ministrations, but were gen- 
erally won over by his kind address. Such was the 
case of a young officer from South Carolina, who had 
lost both his legs. As the cots of Union and Rebel 
soldiers were placed promiscuously, the Chaplain some- 
times knew not which he addressed. He was struck 
with the lustrous dark eyes of the young man, who 
bore the marks of tender nurture, and to comfort him 
referred to the reward of the good soldier. " But do 
you know who I am," said the prostrate youth. "I 
suppose a Union soldier." " No," the other rejoined, 
" I belong to a South Carolina company." " Ah ! " said 
the Chaplain, " I gi'ieve for that. Your cause is at 
best mistaken. But we take no advantage of your 
position to reproach you. If you have thought you 
were in the right, may God forgive you ! " The scene 
ended by the youth asking the Chaplain to stoop over 
and kiss him, while he threw his arms about his neck. 

In a published letter on this topic the Chaplain says ; 

" In the hospital, no surgeon, no chaplain, recognizes any 
distinction between Unionists and Rebels. Shame were it if 
we did ! Let our national enemies forget humanity if they 
will, we cannot, we will not, except first we forget the pre- 
cepts of that blessed Book which, while it sternly declares 



FORTRESS MONROE. 211 

the necessity of Wcar and bloodshed in sin's renriission and the 
world's progress, yet also demands, as the highest of duties, 
visiting the sick and imprisoned, feeding our hungry enemy, 
and the forgiveness of every repentant man. May the North, 
which has answered so nobly when war's dread clarion sound- 
ed, listen also and heed and bless those who on suffering beds 
are dying for their country, or on them expiating their offence, 
till we whisper, Father, forgive and bless them all ! '* 

The labors of the Chaplain in the hospital furnish a 
marked parallel with those of his sister Margaret in 
Italy, which are thus recounted in a letter of the Amer- 
ican Consul, Mr. Lewis Cass, Jr., which has not before 
been published. 

" In the engagements between the Roman and French 
troops, the wounded of the former were brought into the 
city and disposed throughout the different hospitals, which 
were under the superintendence of several ladies of high 
rank, who had formed themselves into associations, the better 
to insure care and attention to these unfortunate men. Mar- 
garet Fuller took an active part in this noble work, and the 
greater portion of her time during the entire siege was passed 
in attendance upon the inmates of the Hospital of the Trinity 
of the Pilgrims, wliich was placed under her direction. 

" The weather was intensely hot, and her health was feeble 
and delicate ; the dead and dying were around her in every 
form of pain and horror, yet she never shrank from the duty 
she had assumed. Her heart and soul were in the cause for 
which these men had fought, and all was done that woman 
could do to comfort them in their sufferings. As she moved 
among tlie dying, extended upon opposite bed^, I have seen 
their eyes meet in commendation of her unwearied kindness, 
and the friends of those who there pjk>sed away may derive 
consolation from the assurance that nothing: wju- wantinc to 



212 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

soothe their last moments. And I have heard many of those 
who recovered speak with all the passionate fervor of the 
Italian nature of her whose sympathy and compassion 
throughout their long illness fulfilled all the offices of love 
and affection. Mazzini, the cliief of the Triumvirate, often 
expressed to me his admiration of her high character, and the 
Princess Belgiojoso, to whom was assigned the charge of the 
Pa])al Palace on the Quirinal, which was converted on this 
occasion into a hospital, was enthusiastic in her praise. And 
in a letter which I received not long ago from this lady, who 
is gaining the bread of an exile by teaching languages in 
Constantinople, she alludes Avith much feehng to the support 
afforded by Margaret Fuller to the republican pai'ty in Italy. 
Here, in Rome, she is still spoken of in terms of regard and 
endearment, and the announcement of her death was received 
with a degree of sorrow not often bestowed upon a foreigner, 
and especially one of a different faith." 




CHAPTER III. 

FORTRESS INCIDENTS : INCLUDING THE CONTEST BETWEEN 
THE MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 



" If there be movements in the patriot's soul, 

From source still deeper and of higher worth, 
'T is thine the quickening impulse to control, 
And in due season send the mandate forth; 
Thy call a prostrate nation can restore, . 
"When but a single mind resolves to crouch no more." 

Wordsworth, Ode to Enterprise. 

•' And the Philistine said to David, Come to me, and I will give thy flesh unto the 
fowls of the air, and to the beasts of the field." 




AR'S stern front occasionally had a feature 
of pleasantness, and even its desolations 
were adorned with a flower. Of the ruins 

he writes : — 

" I have always felt a desire to journey abroad and behold 
the ruins of the Old World. How often we are told that we 
have no ruins to make the landscape picturesque, no ' de- 
serted village ' to inspire a Goldsmith's poetic strain. But 
this is true no longer of America ; alas ! sadly untrue will it 
be before this desolating war, which rebellion has instituted, 
is ended." 

From these ruins a practical advantage was also 
derived. 



" A foray, authorized by the proper officials, has just been 



214 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

made by us upon the ruins of burned Hampton. From them 
have been brought to our camp boards, stoves, and whatever 
was needful to preserve our men from suffering, and many a 
relic of these picturesque ruins and remembrancer of rebel 
outrage and recklessness will reach in due time our Massa- 
chusetts homes. Cruel and wknton was the destruction by 
Magruder's men of this once thriving and beautiful village ; 
but the deed was done, and those scarred timbers are silent, 
and many homeless wanderers are eloquent witnesses of 
the atrocious character of this rebellion. 

'' Some of the half-melted or burned articles taken from 
these ruins look singularly like antiques from Herculaneum 
or Pompeii. I have a portion of the metal of the noted bell 
which was given to the ancient Episcopal Church at Hamp- 
ton, long before the separation of our country from Great 
Britain. Besides this relic, some odd half-melted coins, and 
books (one more than a century old), I have been permitted 
to retain as relics." 

" Beauty for ashes ! " exclaims the chaplain : " such is 
the prophetic promise of Isaiah, when, ' the spirit of the Lord 
God being upon him,' he announced the joyous era which 
was to succeed the then present desolation of Judaea and 
Jerusalem. I could not but be forcibly reminded of this 
awhile since, as I trod amid the ruins of Hampton. This once 
thriving city was burned by the torches of the rebels, and 
ancient churches, modern school-houses, and once goodly and 
beautiful dwellings, are now blackened rums or an indis- 
criminate mass of ashes beneath the foot of the gazer. As 
I looked about on these scarred and tottering walls, or the 
dark and fragmentary mass which strewed the ground, all 
seemed desolation, and the once fair city is fast becoming a 
howling wilderness, — a change wrought by traitorous hands. 
The scene was indescribably mournful. But even there 
I saw God's promise fulfilled. A beautiful rose, which the 



FORTRESS INCIDENTS. 215 

fire had not utterly killed, had been made more luxuriant by 
the ashes lu^aped around its roots, and was blooming more 
profusely than it ever could have done before. Yes, — 
* beauty for ashes." The dear God, who loves not desola- 
tion and human ruin, — who crowns the most frowning cliff 
with some coronal of love, — he had made this flower 
bloom amid that fearful scene of ruin and human wrath, as 
a token of Divine benignity. Let us accept the omen, and 
believe that God, from the desolation and ruin of this war, 
will yet cause the flower of Liberty to bloom and flourish 
with redoubled splendor. He who shielded that tender shrub 
amid the tempest of flame, and caused it to rear anew its 
head, and perfume the aii' with its fragrance, — nurtured to 
more radiant beauty by that very storm of human wrath and 
the ashes of its destructive flames, — he shall sliield the 
tree of Liberty which our fathers planted on these Western 
shores, even amid these times, v.'hen the flmnes of civil war 
are carrying desolation in their ])athway ; and so, when the 
war is over, and as a result of the war, gazing nations shall 
find that tree blooming with more than its pristine beauty, 
above the asli(?s of our battle-fields, and sending even a holier 
perfume upward, as incense of gratitude to Heaven." 

The buried ruins of humanity, too, Natui'e's fair 
hand forgot not to decorate. Tlie Chaplain says of 
thg. fortress cemetery : — 

" We turned at last from our toilsome but interesting ride 
on the sandy shore into a path which led through the woods. 
How changed the scene ! At the entrance was the picket- 
guard, looking picturesque in their house of boughs, or 
beneath the pines, with their rifles stacked near and leady 
for use at a moment's warning. That ride through tlie Vir- 
ginia forest we shall long remember. The live-oak abounded, 
with its brilliant green leaf. It was twined and wreathed 



216 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

with many a vine, lending it grace and charm in return 
for the support its strength afforded. There, too, stood the 
holly-tree, with its splendor of clustered hemes, making it 
seem decked with rubies from the crown to the very skirt 
of its green robe of leaves. Riding on, we soon came to a 
paling, and there, within, were many graves of soldiers who 
have died neai' or in the fortress, in past years, or in this 
eventful one, so soon to be numbered with the past. The 
cemetery is in a httle pine grove, and the lofty trees seemed 
sighing a sad yet noble requiem over the graves of the 
soldiei^s. Ah, well! by the side of most of these graves 
wife or mother never stood, to chant the solemn requiem, 
or let fall the tear of sorrow ! Let the winds of heaven 
sing the strain thi'ough the pine-trees above, and let the 
clouds di'op tears pui-e as the sweet heavens over these 
gi'aves which kindred may never see! It looked almost 
strange to observe in that soldiers' cemetery one or two 
graves of women, and one wherein the passionless forms of 
two twin children slept. These, doubtless, belonged to the 
families of soldiers, who followed them to the fortress, and 
here found — a grave. 

" The cemetery has a rustic entrance, a portion of which 
is formed into that emblem dear to every Christian, though 
once an emblem of obloquy, — the cross. A part of the 
fence has fallen, however, and, despite the picturesqueness 
of the spot, the graveyard looked neglected and somewhat 
desolate, as is almost unavoidable here and now. Very beau- 
tiful ai'e the sighing trees ; and typical of ' glory, honor, and 
immortality' ai'e the chaplets of live-oak and holly which 
stand near the bed of those silent sleepers ; but very cold 
and desolate look those graves beneath, made in the sand, 
whose whiteness speaks of the wmding-sheet and the pallor 
of death. Just without this enclosure is another cemetery, in 
which we noticed that the graves were mostly of marines and 



FORTRESS INCIDENTS. 217 

sailors of the navy, whose bodies have been borne here for 
interment ; those who once tenanted them departing life in 
the harbor or near the shore. We spoke no word in that 
army and navy cemetery ; and yet not wholly voiceless was 
that solitude, deeper, more solemn, and yet more sweet than 
the eternal dirge which the pine grove and the resounding 
sea near it are chanting. Our hearts heard a voice telling 
US not chiefly of death, but if we and those silent sleepers 
were true soldiers of the cross, or if those departed sailors 
had Jesus for their pilot over life's solemn sea, that voice 
spoke for them and us a nobler strain, and it was — Immor- 
tality 

" I have seen many a marble monument and visited many 
a beautiful cemetery, and yet confess that seldom have I been 
more touched than by the simple memorial erected in this 
one consecrated spot, a religious oasis in war's desert, to the 
memory of some humble private soldier." 

Life in the fortress the Chaplain declares is not 
monotonous. 

" There is always some war-tidings, true or false, to stir a 
ripple on the sea of existence, and the varied drills, dress- 
parades, mountings of guard, &c., furnish sufficient variety 
of occupation. Occasionally the booming of cannon from 
Sewall's Point, or from the rebel encampment almost op- 
posite our own, give our soldiers hope that the enemy will 
pay us a visit, when their reception would be warm indeed, 
and of sucli a nature that many of those who made it would 
never return to their own homes. 

" God avert unnecessary bloodshed, yet if attacked I have 
no heteitation in praying for victory, however dear the cost 
to us or our foes. Above all, may our cause triumph, and 
it is of less moment how many of us die, if Liberty and Our 
Country yet live. How beautiful is the scene now before 

10 



218 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

us! The Chesapeake, with its gleaming waters, its waves 
at play as though they did not run between hostile shores, 
both of which they kiss and lave as if anxious for peace 
and to wash out the stains of this fratricidal war. Yester- 
day evening, when the moon was shining most brightly, I 
watched the gleaming fires on the hostile shore. How 
friendly they looked ! how hospitable ! Yet, had I or any 
Massachusetts man shown ourselves within range, how soon 
would other fires have flashed forth with deadly meaning, 
and all because the Old Bay State loves that Union which 
Virginia once was united with her in forming and upholding, 
but now has deserted and is in arms to overthrow." 

And there were other than aesthetic advantages de- 
rived from the Chesapeake. For it 

"swarms with fish, among which the sea-trout is especially 
delicious. Then, too, all along the shore are large beds of 
Virginia oysters, and great quantities of crabs and other 
marine delicacies, which the contraband population bring in 
for us abundantly for a few pennies." 

And there was other game, though exempt from the 
hunter. 

" Walking down to the sea-shore yesterday morning, I was 
reminded, as often lately, of the great abundance of wild-fowl 
in the vicinity. Firing is not allowed near the fortress, except 
for miUtary reasons, and shot-guns are not easily procured by 
those who would go at a proper distance from the lines. The 
wild ducks appeared fully aware of their immunity from dan- 
ger, and would float saucily up almost to the very feet of the 
sentinels pacing the shore with, loaded rifles, and, looking 
pertly up, swim lazily away. Other game abounds on these 
long heaths and in the forest, but is equally out of danger. 
Indeed, wild-fowl and other game seem to seek this region, 



FORTRESS LNCIDENTS. 219 

like tlie contrabands, for safety, to the great aggravation of 
hunters of beasts, birds, and men. My sympathies are with 
the hunted, not hunters, in each case, and I am glad for the 
immunity which the wild-fowl and the forest bird and the 
timid hare and the oppressed black man here enjoy." 

Winter, for a while, seems loath to banish the sym- 
bols of milder seasons. The Cliaplain says : — 

" It seems so strange to read of an accident to children 
skating on the ice in Massachusetts, and to hear from friends 
of grand sleighing already enjoyed in some portions of the 
good old Bay State. Here the waters still sparkle and gleam, 
unfettered by the despotic sway of Winter, who is so apt 
to make his approach felt ere he be fairly seated on his glit- 
tering, icy throne. I still bathe almost every day, when 
the tide is at its height, on the strand. And near my tent, in 
Mr. Segar's orchard, an apple-tree is capriciously covered 
with untunely but beautiful blossom^ A soldier has just 
passed with a rose in his hand, gathered in the open air." 

Yet, Winter's forbearance was not of long duration. 
The Chaplain writes : — 

" Our first snow-storm came last evening. As in the war, 
so in the season, the ' sunny South ' seemed gaining the first 
victories, and the cold North had been repulsed from Virginia. 
The Queen of the South, Summer, was reigning in Virginia, 
in place of the King of the North, Winter, to whom at this 
season dominion of right belongs. But now all is changed. 
Yesterday morning J gathered a beautiful bouquet of tea- 
roses, Southern flowers, blooming in the open air. But last 
night the chilly wind blew, then came sleet, hail, and at last 
snow, and lo ! Winter had come ; the frozen North had sub- 
dued the sunny South, asserted his lawful right to reign at 
this season, even in the Old Dominion. 



220 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

" I confess my first sympathies had been with the Southern 
Queen, Summer. True, she had no right to stay longer, and 
claim supremacy in December ; true, her kisses were deceit- 
ful, and her hot, sultry breath had caused the death of many 
a brave soldier by its malarious influence ; but still she was 
crowned with flowers and had so many enchanting, if arrogant 
and capricious ways, that after all we loved her. But she is 
vanquished now ; her wreathed wand was shivered last night 
when it ventured to try its strength against the sceptre of 
Winter, who, tardily, but sternly, at last asserts his right to 
reign. And beneficent, if austere, is his sway ; for fever yields 
at once and flees in the train of the fugitive Summer ; the 
stains of Virginia's soil, polluted by treason, are covered over- 
with a pure white, a cold and snowy mantle. Yes, Winter 
has at last conquered Summer, even here on Southern soil, 
just as the loyal North will ultimately conquer the rebellious 
South in this strife for Union and Liberty. 

" Well ; Winter, King of the North, thou shalt be welcome, 
though thy aspect be cold and forbidding, and we will be 
loyal subjects of thy sway ! Farewell, Queen of the South, 
thy reign is e^ddently over ; we will not mourn thy depart- 
ure, for with thee we hope fever and a host of other diseases 
and ills may depart also." 

Another page of nature, the character of man, fiir- 
nislied for the Chaplain features of instruction and 
interest. He thus groups some of the points of 
interest on Old Point Comfort : — 

" Leaving my tent at Camp Hamilton, on horseback, in 
company with a few friends, we were much impressed with 
tlie variety presented by a short ride in the vicinity. Pass- 
ing through the German regiment (Max Weber's New York 
Twentieth), I was struck with the neat aspect of the vast 
number of little shanties, -vvith wliich the soldiers of that 



FORTRESS INCIDENTS. 221 

thrifty and industrious nation have supplied the place of the 
showy but cold tents with which they have been provided. 
Their camp really looks like a smart Western village, and 
yet every cabip has been built of refuse lumber brought from 
the ruins of Hampton. Internally these shanties are the 
pictures of neatness, and their ingenious arrangements make 
you realize how akin the Germans are in many notable 
respects to our own New-Englanders. My friends alighted 
from horseback, and entered these humble substitutes for 
houses, and were much gratified. Almost every shanty had 
a few pictures on the wall, or at least a wreath of evergreen, 
as a mark of taste and love of the beautiful. 

" Passing through this camp, we next entered that of the 
Naval Brigade. It hails from no State, but claims to repre- 
sent the Union, its officers being commissioned directly by 
the President, and it is intended for land or sea service as 
the exigency may require. 

" As we pass along, we leave at our left the Chesapeake 
Female Seminary, with its noble dome. The building is 
owned by the State of Vir^nia, and is now used chiefly as 
a hospital and for quarters for officers and some of their 
families. 

" Still farther, the fortress rises on our left, with its frown- 
ing walls and its many cannon peering curiously out of the 
portholes at the passers-by, and ready to give any disloyal 
visitants a reception more warm than pleasant. As we claim 
to be thoroughly loyal, they have no voice for us, though 
their mouths are ^\dde o[)en. On our right lie a large num- 
ber of gunboats, transport steamers, schooners, the storeship 
Brandywine, and, more beautiful than any others, the flagship 
Minnesota and the Roanoke." 

Of a high military character at Newport News he 
writes : — 



222 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

" It was my privilege to visit this place a few days since 
and see that tried and veteran soldier, General Phelps, who 
achieved honorable distinction in the Mexican war. I found 
him unpretending, affable, and every inch a soldier. He is a 
skilled artillerist, and as the ' News ' is strongly intrenched, 
the foe would meet a pretty bloody reception should they 
come. The entrenchments are provided with the formidable 
Sawyer's and other rifled cannon, which would deal out death 
by wholesale to assailants. The remnant of the regiment of 
Ellsworth's Zouaves went there yesterday morning. They 
are hard boys, and may fight bravely, but I am more and 
more convinced that the best moral men, yes, and the best 
Christians, are also generally the best and most rehable and 
the bravest soldiers." 

And in the humbler walks he finds those to com- 
mend. 

"In our HoUiston company (Company B) is a man by the 
name of Fiske, a former resident of Georgia, which place he 
quitted abruptly a few weeks since, not, however, until he had 
become acquainted with the beauties of the only law which 
our Southern neighbors seem to respect, — lynch law. He 
was tarred and feathered, and treated with much indignity, 
and robbed of all his hard earnings. Fiske had never been 
an abolitionist, nor an opponent of slavery, though not hold- 
ing it exactly a divine institution. His only crime was being 
a native of Massachusetts and not in favor of rebellion. He 
was a peaceful man, but on arriving here, at once enlisted in 
our regiment, and only wishes to go *way down South to 
Dixie's land,' with plenty of good Massachusetts soldiei-s in 
his company. He is calm now, but terribly in earnest in this 
strife, and with no personal revenge in his heart ; yet hates 
slavery, — the fount of all our woes, — and desires to see an 
end put to treason and rebellion in the Southern States." 



FORTRESS INCIDENTS. 223 

And thus he speaks over a soldier's grave : — 

" Stuart was an excellent young man, and died willingly, 
trustfully, feehng that he was giving life for his country. 
His were not tlie eclat and glory of death on the battle- 
field; yet his life was no less an offering on the altar of 
liberty. His humble pine coffin was followed to the grave 
by his captain and his company, and by the colonel of the 
regnnent. The solemn burial rites fitting for a soldier were 
performed by the chaplain of the regiment, and then three 
volleys of musketry were fired over the insatiate grave in 
which we had placed the remains of him who, so few days 
since, was earnest in his patriotic zeal. On the following 
Sabbath, a discourse suggested by his death, yet more by his 
life, so far as we knew it, was preached by the chaplain to an 
attentive regiment. Massachusetts — yes, and America, too 
— will write on her heart of hearts the names of all who, in 
this perilous hour, die in her cause. Names the most humble 
shall henceforth become glorious." 

He finds one, too, reminding of "The boy stood on 
the burning deck." He says: — 

" Just as I was leaving Boston a lad of fifteen appeared, 
•wdth proper vouchers, and entreated to go as a servant in the 
regiment. His father had been major in the regular army, 
but neither father nor mother nor other known relative of his 
now lived, and he had no way of earning honestly his bread. 
He is a Boston boy, of American parentage, and from one of 
our Suffolk schools. I took him, finchng his card indorsed 
by good citizens, though not specially needing his services. 
On arriving at this encampment I was called to the city 
by business, and, leaving him standing in front of the head- 
quarters, told him to stay there till I returned, which would 
be before long. 

" Business detained me, however, and knowing the boy 



224 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

would have every kindness, I was not anxious about him. 
Returning next day at 10 A. M. I found that during the 
rainy night he had stood at his post, refusing to leave it, 
because his orders were to the contrary. He had not gone 
in to supper, nor did he leave, though without an overcoat, 
when the rain-storm came on, till, falling asleep, he was 
carried in by one of the servants. That is a boy who. 
* obeys orders,' and will make a good soldier. I had never 
dreamed of. being obeyed so literally, but confess I was 
pleased with the implicit obedience of this little soldier's 
orphan." 

The fortress furnished melancholy spectacles. 

" At the fortress wharf here, on that sanie Friday, we saw 
fifty-seven patriotic and brave men who were wounded and 
captured by the enemy at the battle of Bull Run. O what 
a scene it was, — those poor mangled, wounded, half-starved 
sufferers ! There was a young man who had -lost a limb ; 
and another whose whole existence must be a li\dng agony, 
a dying by inches ; yet only after long years may he be so 
privileged as to 'sleep well, life's fitful fever over.' May 
their grateful country not wait till the grave closes over 
those maimed and sickly forms, ere she does them what 
slender justice she can. And may the kindness of home, 
and the sunshine of loved faces, and the music of friendly 
voices restore to health some of these who must soon have 
died, surrounded as they were in their gloomy prison-house 
by the foes of human liberty, who scowled their hatred of 
its defenders, and uttered only harsh words to these brave 
men who had poured forth their blood as a hbation on Free- 
dom's altar." 

Sights more cheering sometimes are met on the 
shore. 



FORTRESS INCIDENTS. 225 

" The sun, which was veiled in clouds on Saturday, shone 
again on the Sabbath. 

" "Well it might, for it seldom has looked upon a gladder 
scene than its setting rays gilded with a smile of holy joy. 
At that hour the steamer, which had been up to Norfolk 
with a flag of truce, returned, laden with a precious freight, 
even our released prisoners from Richmond and many an- 
other house of Southern bondage. As I went on board, I 
saw Colonel Lee, Colonel Cogswell, Colonel Wood, Major 
Revere, Captain Keller, and over three hundred other brave 
officers and soldiers, who were mostly captured in the cour- 
ageous and sanguinary, but ineffectual, fight at Ball's Bluff. 
It was a different scene ft'om what I expected, less noisy and 
more solemn, fewer ' hurrahs ' and more exclamations of 
' Bless God ! ' ' Bless God ! ' Ay, ' Bless God,' indeed ; for 
Secretary Stanton spoke a truth we need ever remember, 
when he declared that to Jehovah's name, and not chiefly to 
any man's, belongeth the highest glory. Without under- 
rating the valor of our brave soldiers, the wise strategy of 
commanders or statesmen, but heaping chaplets on their 
honored brows, we would at the same time remember that 
' His right hand hath gotten us the victory.' " 

The Chaplain thus describes another scene : — 

" It affords a pleasant change from camp scenes to go a 
while each day to the fortress, and especially to the market- 
place, which lies just without its walls and near the various 
steamboat landings. There you see every variety of men. 
Here are a group of naval officei*s, with their round caps and 
broad gold bands and brilliant uniforms. They are talking 
over a theme always pleasant, — the Ilatteras Inlet victory, 
which was emphatically a naval triumph, although the brave 
German soldiers and our own gallant Butler did their full 
part in its achievement. The venerable man to whom they 
10* o 



226 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

most attentively listen when he speaks is the brave Commo- 
dore Stringham, who, to the regret of many, is to be trans- 
ferred from this command. 

" Near them is a band of soldiers eagerly asking whether 
they are not to have lot or part in some hazardous expedi- 
tion for their country's service and strike a blow which shall 
sink Manasses and Bethel beneath the sea of oblivion. Pa- 
tience, brave men, you will not long remain un gratified in 
your desire, and when the blow is struck, may it be so strong- 
ly dealt, so surely aimed, that under it rebellion shall reel and 
stagger to her final overthrow. You notice that the soldiers 
are of different States, but chiefly from New York and Mas- 
sachusetts, who have stood shoulder to shoulder during all 
this warfare ; of different nationalities, too, Germans, Irish, 
Americans, but united wholly in heart and mind, and all 
calling America their fatherland, for whom they will seek 
all service to do, and in her cause, if must be, die. 

" But there comes a file of men who do not look so eager 
and expectant, albeit not half so ill as I had pictured such 
men to look. These are captured Secessionists, who have 
just been brought here to try the invigorating air of Old 
Point Comfort. That row is just from Baltimore, and is 
composed of most distinguished and gentlemanly, but bitter 
enemies of their country. For them I have no sympathy ; 
they deserve none. They have sinned against the best 
and most lenient government upon which sun ever shone, 
and have sinned knowingly, and because of personal ambi- 
tion. 

'' That other file of prisoners, and we have one or two 
such every day, is more deserving of pity ; it is composed of 
ignorant men, misled by leaders like the first class of rebels 
who just jDassed us." 

The Chaplain had an interview with some released 
rebels, which he thus describes : — 



FORTRESS INCIDENTS. 227 

" While I stood on the deck of the Roncoos, as our flag-of- 
truce boat is named, there came upon deck a young man, 
dressed in full uniform as a naval officer, who touched his 
hat courteously to me, and called me by name. I did not 
recognize him, but, stepping aside to speak with him, was 
introduced to a captain and lieutenant, also in full naval 
rig, with swords by their sides. After customary words of 
introduction, my new friend said : ' Well, it seems good to get 
on the water again.' * Ah,' I said, ' you have not been with 
your ship lately.' ' No,' was the reply, ' I had other duties.* 
* Well, sir,' I remarked, ' it is to you naval gentlemen that 
the country is now looking to strike terror to the hearts of 
the Secessionists and crush out rebellion.' ' Sii',' they replied, 
in a loud chorus, ' we have resigned' ' Indeed,' was my re- 
sponse, ' I am sorry you should be out of health at a time 
when so many important naval expeditions are on foot.* 
' That is n't our reason.' I turned the conversation a little, 
somewhat enlightened, but still not willing to believe that 
these gentlemen, wearing tJncle Sam's uniform, were yet 
ready to fight against, but not for, a government whose cash 
they have Ion*; drawn as salary. *Are you from Boston, 
gentlemen ? ' ' Just arrived from there.' ' How do things 
look in the good old city ? ' ' We went about but very little.* 
'What part of the city did you stop in?' ' We have been 
residing for the last few months in Fort Warren, in Boston 
Harbor,' was their answer. We all laughed. Then and 
during the rest of our conversation we better understood 
one another. My new-found acquaintance it appeared had 
seen me in "Boston a few years ago, and remembered me, 
though I had forgotten him." 

In the Fortress, the Chaplain w^as under a new 
regime^ the law martial ; a change not so noticeable to 
those who were a law to themselves, but of necessary- 
severity with delinquents. He writes ; — 



228 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

" My heart is sad amid these beautiful Virginia scenes ; 
and war's dread array has as yet presented to me no sight so 
sorrowful as our regimental guard-tent exhibits ; for within 
those canvas walls are two men sentenced to be shot. 

" Do you ask the crime of these men, whom the court- 
martial has thus sentenced to a summary execution ? I 
answer, a very heinous one in military eyes, and rightly so 
regarded, yet not necessarily involving moral obliquity, — 
it is sleeping on their post as sentinels at night. This en- 
dangers the whole army, and tlie sacred cause for which we 
are contending ; and unless extenuating circumstances ap- 
pear, death is the awful yet righteous penalty. Still we 
cannot refriiin from deeply sympathizing with those whose 
offence implies no malice, only that negligence and lack of 
watchfulness often equally pernicious and fatal to ourselves 
and others. But whatever my judgment says, my heart 
pleads for these men, — pleads for them before the tribunal 
of God, and will induce me to plead for them before the tri- 
bunal of men ; and I cannot but hope and pray for that one 
sweet word which all we sinful mortals need, — pardon !" * 

The capture of two arch-traitors caused joy at the 
fortress. The Chaplain says : — 

" It is they, and such as they, who have brought upon this 
State and our whole country sorrow and the sufferings of 
civil war. A friend near me suggests that he, for one, is 
glad that the Virginia ' architect of ruin ' is no longer a free 
Mason ; and those who know Slidell assert that he is even 
more inclined to all poHtical evil and crime than his Virginia 
confederate in treason. It seems strange to us Massachusetts 
soldiei's, far away from home, defending our institutions and 
liberties, to hear of citizens of Boston furnishing these j)lot- 
ters of disunion and avowed enemies of our government with 

* The sentence of these men was commuted. 



FORTRESS INCIDENTS. 229 

every luxury. We endure hardships and privations cheer- 
fully ; Tve desire no unnecessary severity towards these men 
who are largely the cause of our hardships, but we believe 
our government and State and citizens have done enough, 
and all that is honorable to tliemselves, when they treat as 
ivell and make as comfortable these rebel prisoners as they 
treat and make their loyal soldiery. 

" By the way, if Mr. Mason now visits Massachusetts, and 
more especially Fort Warren, mil he go 'as an ambassa- 
dor,' as he once promised Mr. Winthrop ? " 

Of their release he says : — 

" I find but one opinion in this division of the loyal army 
in reference to the surrender of Mason and Slidell. It is of 
reluctant but entire acquiescence. Their fangs are drawTi ; 
let the serpents go. They are harmless, save to their friends 
in rebeldom or Great Britain." 

Of the preparation of the expedition which cap- 
tured Beaufort he says : — 

" On returning to the fortress, I found the harbor and 
vicinity one forest of masts. Interspersed among these were 
the smoke-pipes of a countless throng of steamers. The 
decks of both ships and steamei-s were alive with armed 
men, — soldiei-s and marines. At night the scene was one 
of the most beautiful that human eye can ever see. Innu- 
merable lights gleamed from every deck, and were reflected 
from the waters, glancing and sparkling as the light waves 
played ; strains of patriotic music arose from the bands or 
from human voices, and were wafted in sweet cadence to 
the shores. O, with what pride and joy, with what an in- 
finitude of hope, and yet a blending of anxiety, did every 
patriot look on that floating city beneath our fortress walls ! 
How often have we expected it to Kail dui-ing those radiant, 



230 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

serene days and still October nights, when all seemed so 
auspicious, and every morning we looked, thinking, half 
hoping, that, in the silence of the night just gone, those white 
sails would have been spread like the wings of sea-birds, and 
those vessels have glided away, followed by the laboring 
steamers as companions, on their mission of peace to loyal 
men, of death to traitors. But those anticipations were long 
disappointed, until at last, in the gray mists of morning, that 
marine city did melt away like a night vision, and we saw it 
sweep out of the harbor with the mists, and followed it with 
our prayers and our blessings. A few hours sufficed to hoist 
eveiy anchor and set every sail ; and when we looked anew 
at those placid waters, the fleet which had ridden safely upon 
them was gone, — where could only be conjectured, and con- 
jectures, let me assure you, were numberless, save among the 
very few who believed they knew." 

He thus alludes to the dreadful tempest wjiich suc- 
ceeded the departure of the expedition: — 

" Scarce a day had passed after the fleet had left our 
waters, when the sky, which had been so cloudless and azure, 
became overcast, and the still waters were lashed to fury by 
a fierce wind. All night it blew ; it prostrated many of the 
humble tents in our canvas city, and kept cold and comfort- 
less the inmates of them all ; but I think few thought much 
of personal discomfort in comparison with the great interests 
we felt were imperilled by the unwelcome storm. But that 
night of wind and tumult was as nothing when considered in 
relation to the driving, furious tempest of Friday and Satur- 
day last. It did seem as though the powers of light and 
darkness were striving for the victory, and the latter were 
likely to get the better in the contest, or as if the very ele- 
ments of nature were assaulting one another, and earth, sea, 
and air were mingling in an indiscriminate strife, the result 



FORTRESS INCIDENTS. 231 

of which to us poor half-drowned denizens of the tented field 
was a very doubtful one. All Friday night the winds howled 
over sea and main, and torrents of rain fell, or rather beat 
upon sea and shore, and when morning came the white-crested 
waves were rushing upon the beach like plumed squadrons to • 
the battle. Throughout the whole day the storm continued, 
tiU our anxieties for the fleet, freighted with a nation's des- 
tinies, reached a climax. Still we had one resource, — we 
could do nothing in our human powerlessness to aid, but we 
could look to Him who rules wmds and waves, and know that 
He who doeth all things well could and would care for that 
fleet, and give it both protection and a prosperous event to its 
undertaking, if in his wisdom that were best for the welfare 
of our country and humanity. And never have I heard more 
fervent prayers than those which have arisen from the sol- 
diers at our humble prayer-meetings, as they invoked Heav- 
en's blessing on the great expedition." 

'Every hour and scene were liable to martial inter- 
ruption, and the frowning fortress was obliged, like 
the Eastern sage, to sleep with the eyes open. Of 
such an interruption, while religious services were in 
progress, the Chaplain writes : — 

" We worship, as did our Pilgrim Fathers, -with arms in 
our hands, ready to pray or fight, as God and duty may 
require, and beUeving one not inconsistent with the other 
in a holy cause, such as is our country's. A portion of our 
regiment immediately proceeded to the scene of action, de- 
termined, if the enemy would desecrate the Sabbath by an 
attack, we would consecrate ' Forefather's Day ' ^vith a vic- 
tory. But the enemy were repulsed ere our companies 
reached the field, and I met the ambulances bringing back 
four wounded men of the German Twentieth New York 
E^giment, our neighbors. Eight or ten of the rebels were 



232 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

killed, but the foe saved themselves from further loss by 
retreating at the tenth volley. The enemy's force consisted 
of one regiment of infantry and one company of cavalry. 
Many colored men were in the enemy's ranks, the rebels 
having no tender scruples about arming the slaves. The 
number of the rebel wounded is not known. None of our 
men were killed." 

The Rebels, having now got their Merrimac nearly 
or quite ready for action, begin to be confident upon 
the water. The Chaplain writes : — 

" Quite a saucy thing was done by a little rebel steamer 
from Sewall's Point, opposite our camp, on Sunday last. 
The attempt made was to capture our mail and transport 
steamer, the Express, which plies daily between the fortress 
and Newport News. The Express at the time was towing 
an old schooner, the Sherwood, owned by Assistant-Quarter- 
master Noyes, and having on board twelve hundi-ed gallons 
of good pure cold water for the supply of the naval vessels, 
good water not bemg easily procured at the fortress. The 
shells of the rebel steamer all passed over the Express, 
but it was deemed advisable to cut adrift the schooner and 
abandon her to the enemy. The contrabands on board the 
schooner abandoned her, taking the yawl-boat and escaping 
to the shore, the captain, however, remaining on board, and 
refusing to leave the schooner. Meanwhile, but very slowly 
as it appeared to us who were witnessing the matter on the 
shore,, the federal gunboats steamed up and sailed after the 
rebel adventurer. They were unsuccessful in overtaking 
her, but poured their shells about her in a fiery storm 
of thunderbolts. One of our armed ferry-boats pursued the 
enemy almost to Sewall's Point, running the gantlet between 
the batteries there and on Craney Island. We temperance 
men were rather rejoicing to think that the rebels had now a 



MERRBIAC AND MONITOR. 233 

good supply of pure cold water, — an article whose use they 
appear lately to have abandoned; but I learn to-day that 
the schooner sunk when near port, having been riddled with 
our balls. Our gunboats at last ceased the chase, but shelled 
the rebel camp on Craney Island, with what success can only 
be conjectured by us." 

And now occurred the greatest naval engagement 
of the nineteenth century, not only in view of the 
novelty of the combat and the incalculable issue imme- 
diately at stake, but because its result went far to 
settle the question of foreign intervention. Wooden 
walls would henceforth avail little in maritime warfare, 
and ships in the heavy iron armor which would be 
requisite must incur the utmost hazard in a long voy- 
age over a tempest-breeding sea. 

Our Chaplain was one of the few eyewitnesses, if 
not the only one, who has given the full particulars 
of this event. He thus describes it under date of 
March 15th, 1862: — 

" The past week has indeed been an exciting one here. 
The dulness and monotony of camp life have been ex- 
changed for the sounds of the stirring drum, of men march- 
ing in battle array to meet any land force which might 
second the naval armament arrayed against us, and for the 
flash and roar of the cannon upon our shores. I have been 
a witness of the entire naval contest ; our signal defeat at 
first, our splendid triumph at the last. Never have I known 
such alternations of feeling as this last week has brought to 
me. I have seen the proud American flag stmck and hum- 
bled, and over it the white signal of surrender to a rebel 
steamer waving, and my heart sank within me for shame, 
and then came emotions of stern resentment, and longing to 



234 '^ . CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

see the affront avenged. I have seen that exultant rebel 
steamer humbled in her turn before the little Monitor, and 
the fierce fiame-breathing monster towed disabled away to 
his den, and then came a feeling of exultation, say rather of 
gratitude to God, whose providence alone aent that deliver- 
ance, which no language is adequate to express. Let me 
now briefly recount events of remarkable interest, avoiding 
the trite details already before the public, and narrating 
things as I saw them. The like of this naval engagement, 
in many respects, the world never saw before ; the tremen- 
dous interests which hung upon the issue have never been 
exceeded ; and each witness is bound to give his testimony, 
and give it impartially. 

" Never has a brighter day smiled upon Old Virginia than 
last Satm'day. The hours crept lazily along, and sea and 
shore in this region saw nothing to vary the monotony of the 
scene. Now and then a soldier might be heard complaining 
that this detachment of the loyal army was having no part in 
the glorious victories wliich everywhere else are crowning 
American valor with such brilliant success ; or a sailor might 
be noted on shipboard telling how much he hoped the Merri- 
mac would show herself, and how certainly she would be 
sunk by our war vessels or land guns if she dared make her 
appearance. At one o'clock in the afternoon the scene changed. 
Two strangely-clad steamers appeared above Newport News, 
coming down the river, and a mysterious monster — half ship, 
half house — came slowly steaming from Norfolk. We did 
not know, but we all felt, that the latter was the Merrimac. 
Your correspondent at once went to the large seminary build- 
ing on the shore, about two miles from the fortress, and so 
much nearer Newport News, and with an excellent spyglass 
could see distinctly every movement made. The engagement 
was a brief one, and as teri-ible and disastrous as brief The 
Merrimac is a slow sailer, but she steamed steadily toward 



, MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 235 

Newport News, and at once attacked the Cumberland. There 
can never be a braver defence than the officers and sailors of 
that frigate made. They fought long after resistance was 
hopeless ; they never surrendered, even when the water was 
filled with drowning men,' and the fast disappearing decks 
were slippery with blood ; but all was in vain. With terri- 
ble and resistless force the Merrimac steamed at the doomed 
vessel, and pierced her side with her immense iron beak, at 
the same time firing her heavy guns dii-ectly through her 
antagonist. The noble Cumberland soon sunk, and her sail- 
ors who were yet ahve sought safety in the masts yet above 
water, or by swimming to the shore. 

" Meanwhile the Congress had been fired upon by the rebel 
steamers Yorktown and Jamestown, and also by the tug-boats 
which accompanied the Merrimac. She had got as near the 
shore as possible ; but when the iron monster turned his atten- 
tion to her, she was soon obliged to surrender. how bitterly 
we all felt the humiliation of seeing the white flag rising to 
the mast-head above the stare and stripes. I am afraid I felt 
hardly like a Christian for the moment, if indeed a longing 
for vengeance upon my country's enemies be unchristian. I 
would have given all I possessed to see that accursed tyrant 
of the seas, with the rebel pennant defiantly flying, sunk be- 
side her victim, the noble Cumberland. But it was not so to 
be. We looked for the JVIinnesota and Roanoke, our helpers 
in the strife, the first our main dependence, and lo! both 
were aground and helpless in that fearful hour ! It was well, 
for sure as they had floated, and the Merrimac could have 
come at them, they, too, must have been sunk or captured. 
The Merrimac draws more water than either of them. It 
did seem strange, though, that such a mishap should have 
chanced to both of these steam frigates, whose pilots ought 
to have been so familiar witli the clmnnel ; l>ut the Roanoke 
for six months has lain in these waters with a broken shaft, 



236 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

whicli renders her helpless, and the former pilot of the Min- 
nesota had just given way to another and less experienced 
man. It was all overruled for good. 

" The Merrimac now threw her balls tliick and fast and 
heavy upon the camps at Newport News. Strange to say 
none of these shot or shell did any material damage, though 
one of them passed directly through General Mansfield's 
quarters, made wild work with his room, covered the Gen- 
eral with splinters of wood, and had it exploded must have 
killed him. I saw the shell next day, and conversed -with 
the General with reference to it. He has it in his apart- 
ment. It weighed forty-two pounds; another by its side, 
also sent from the Merrimac, weighed ninety-two. The 
shells were rather badly aimed, and most of them went into 
the woods, cutting off tops of trees as they fell ; but fortu- 
nately, nay, providentially, harming no one of the soldiery or 
the fleeing women and children and contrabands. A little 
tug had been sent meanwhile from the Merrimac to the Con- 
gress to take off the prisoners ; but this tug was a mark for 
the sharpshooters from the shore and from the land batteries, 
which had been admirably served under General Mansfield's 
skilful direction, and frightened the Yorktown and James- 
town and the little rebel gunboats from landing their forces. 
The ofiicers of the Congress and most of. the sailors who were 
not killed, all save twenty -three, escaped to the shore ; and 
the Merrimac, damaged but not disabled by the Cumberland's 
broadsides, with her commander wounded and several men 
killed, retired from the conflict, giving a few passing shots at 
the Minnesota, but reserving her case till the morrow, and 
slowly steaming up to Norfolk, accompanied by the James- 
tovm, Yorktown, and the smaller rebel craft. 

" That morrow ! How anxiously we waited for it ! How 
much we feared its results ! How anxious our Saturday eve 
of preparation ! At sundown there was nothing to dispute 



MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 237 

the empire of the seas with the Merrimac, and had a land 
attack been made by Magruder then, God only knows what 
our fate would have been. The St. Lawrence and the Min- 
nesota aground and helpless! the Roanoke with a broken 
shaft, — these were our defences by sea, — while on land we 
were doing all possible to resist a night invasion ; but who 
could hope that would have much efficiency! O what a 
night that was ! I never can fofget it. There was no fear 
during its long hours, — danger, I find, does not bring that, 
— but there was a longing for some interposition of God and 
waiting upon him, from whom we felt our help must come, in 
earnest, fervent prayer, while not neglecting all the means 
of martial defence he had placed in our hands. Fugitives 
from Newport News kept arriving ; ladies and children had 
walked the long ten miles from Newport News, feeling that 
their presence only embarrassed their brave husbands. Sail- 
ors from the Congress and Cumberland came, one of them 
with his ship's flag bound about his waist as he swam with 
it ashore, determined the enemy should never trail it in 
dishonor as a trophy. Dusky fugitives, the contrabands, 
came mournfully fleeing from a fate worse than death, — 
slavery. These entered my cabin hungry and weary, or 
passed it in long, sad procession. The heavens were aflame 
with the burning Congress. The hotel was crowded with 
fugitives, and private hospitality was taxed to the utmost. 
But there were no soldiers among the flying host ; all in our 
camps at Newport News and Camp Hamilton were at the 
post of duty, undismayed and ready to do all and dare all for 
their country. The sailors came only to seek another chance 
at the enemy, since the bold Cumberland had gone down in 
the deep waters and the Congress had gone upward, as if 
a chariot of fire, to convey tlie manly souls whose bodies 
had perished in that conflict upward to heaven. I had lost 
several friends there; yet not lost, for they are saved who 



26Q CHAI^LAIN FULLER. 

do their duty to their country and their God, as these had 
done. 

" We did not pray in vain. 

' The heavy night hung dark the hills and waters o'er ' ; 

but the night was not half so heavy as our heaiis, nor so dark 
as our prospects. All at once a speck of light gleamed on 
the distant wave ; it moved, it came nearer and nearer, and at 
ten o'clock at night the Monitor appeared. ' When the tale 
of bricks is doubted, Moses comes.' I never more firmly be- 
lieved in special providences than at that hour. Even sceptics 
for the moment were converted, and said, 'God has sent her!' 
But how insignificant she looked ! she was but a speck on the 
dark blue sea at night, almost a laughable object by day. 
The enemy call her a ' cheese-box on a raft,' and the com- 
parison is a good one. Could she meet the Merrimac ? The 
morrow must determine, for, under God, the Monitor is our 
only hope. 

" The morrow came, and with it came the inevitable bat- 
tle between those strange combatants, the Merrimac and 
the Monitor. T\'Tiat a lovely Sabbath it was ; how peace- 
ful and balmy that Southern spring morning ! Smiling 
nature whispered only ' peace,' but fierce treason breathed 
out threatenings and slaughter, and would have war. Nor 
would the rebels respect the Sabbath ; they know no doctrine 
but Slavery, no duty but obedience to her bloody behests. 
War let it be, then, since wicked men so determine, and we 
have no alternative but shameful surrender of truth and eter- 
nal justice. The guilt of violating God's Sabbath be upon 
the heads of those who will do it, — we may not, indeed can- 
not, shrink from the terrible ordeal of battle. And soon it 
comes. At nine o'clock A. M., the Merrimac, attended by 
her consorts, the war-steamers Jamestown and Yorktown, and 
a fleet of little tug-boats, crowded with ladies and gentlemen 



MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 239 

from Norfolk who were desirous of seeing the Minnesota cap- 
tured, and, perhaps eyen Fort Monroe taken, certainly all its 
outlying vessels and the houses in its environs bui'nt. 

" The little Monitor lay concealed in the shadow of the Min- 
nesota. The Merrimac opens the conflict, and her guns shake 
the sea and air as they breathe out shot and flame. Sewall's 
Point sends from its mortars shell which burst in the air. 
above the doomed Minnesota. The Minnesota, still aground, 
replies with a bold but ineffectual broadside. All promises 
an easy victory to the Merrimac, when lo ! the little Monitor 
steams gently out and offers the monster Merrimac battle. 
How puny, how contemptible she seemed ! nothing but that 
little round tub appearmg above the water, and yet flinging 
do\Mi the gage of defiance to the gigantic Merrimac. It was 
little David challenging the giant Goliath once again, — the 
little one the hope of Israel, the giant the pride of the hea- 
then Philistines. Truly our hopes were dim and our hearts 
almost faint for the moment. The few men on the Monitor 
are sea and storm worn and weary enough, and their little 
craft is an experiment, with only two guns with which to 
answer the Merrimac's many. Who can doubt the issue ? 
who believe the Monitor can fjiil io be defeated? And if 
she is, what is to hinder the victorious and unopposed and 
unopposable Merrimac from opening the blockade of the coast, 
or shelling Washington, New York, and Boston, after fii-st 
devastating our camp and destroying its soldiery ? That 
2oas the issue ; such might have been the result, smile now 
who will. Believe me, there were prayers offered, many and 
fervent, that Sabbath, along the shore and from the fortress 
walls, as our regiment watched the battle, and sailors must 
have prayed, too, as never before. 

" The Merrinjac, after a few minutes of astounded silence, 
opened the contest. She tried to sink her puny foe at once 
by a broadside, and be no longer delayed froni the IVIinnesota, 



240 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

whose capture she had determined upon. After the smoke 
of the cannonade had cleared awaj, we looked fearing, and 
the crew of the Merrimac looked hoping, that the Monitor 
had sunk to rise no more. But she still lived. There she 
was, with the white wreaths of smoke crowning her tower, as 
if a coronet of glory. And valiantly she returned the fire, 
too, and for five- hours such a lively cannonading as was 
heard, shaking earth and sea, was never heard before. Lit- 
erally, I believe that never have ships carr}dng such heavy 
guns met till that Sabbath morning. Every manoeuvre was 
exhausted by the enemy. The Yorktown approached to 
muigle in the fray. One shot was enough to send her quickly 
back, a lame duck upon the waters, though she, too, is iron- 
clad. The Merrimac tried to run the Monitor down, and 
thus sink her ; she only got fiercer shots by the opportunity 
she thus gave her httle antagonist. And so it went on till 
the proud Merrimac, disabled, was glad to retire, and, making 
signals of distress, was towed away by her sorrowing consorts. 
David had conquered Golia^th with his smooth stones, or 
wrought-iron balls, from his little sling, or shot-tower. Israel 
rejoiced in her deliverance, through the power of God, who 
had sent that little chafiipion of his cause, in our direst ex- 
tremity, to the battle. Since then the Merrimac has not 
shown herself, and the- enemy confess her disabled, and her 
commander, Buchanan, ominous name, severely wounded, 
four of her crew killed, and seventeen wounded. They ad- 
mit, too, the valor of our seamen, futile though it was. ' The 
Cumberland's officers and crew,' says the Norfolk Day-Book, 
* fought worthy of a better cause ' ; say, rather, worthy of the 
best cause in the world, and we who witnessed the fight will 
agree with them. 

" All that night, as well as the previous and for several 
succeeding, our regunents were under anus. I will not detail 
the precautions taken to prevent a defeat by land, as, through 



MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 241 

the providence of God, an ultimate defeat by sea has been 
averted. Few of us slept that night, and had we done so 
most of us would have been awakened at midnight by the 
fearful cries which came to us from the water, ' Ship ahoy ! O 
God, save us ! Fire, fire, fire ! ' and occasionally a heavy cannon 
mingling its roar with those fearful cries. I rushed to the shore, 
with many others, and then a little distance from me beheld 
the gunboat Whitehall burning, and apparently her crew per- 
ishing in the fire or drowning in the waters near. It was 
terrible, all the more so as we could do nothing to aid, no 
boat being near our camp. The balls from her shotted guns 
made even looking on dangerous ; one shell struck the United 
States Hospital at the fort and caused great terror among the 
inmates, all of whom believed for a while that the Merrimac 
had come down again and was shelling the fort. Only four 
of those poor seamen perished in the flames or water, through 
the mercy of God. The fire came from a shot from the Mer- 
rimac, which had the day before passed through the "White- 
hall and left a little spark smouldering unknown within. 

" Amid all these events, disastrous or merciful, our soldiers 
still live, the fortress yet remains unscathed, and the Minne- 
sota and Roanoke and St. Lawrence, though the first two 
need repairs, yet fly the old flag at their mainmasts. Above 
all, the little Monitor floats in triumph, a sentinel on the 
waters and a strict ' monitor ' over the rebels. But for the 
wounding of her noble commander. Lieutenant Worden, she 
would have pui-sued and sunk the Merrimac, and will proba- 
bly do so if another encounter occurs. She has now another 
noble commander. Lieutenant T. A. Selfridge of Charles- 
town, whom I have known from his boyhood, and know to 
be brave and M'orthy of the proud Old Bay State. I have 
visited Newport News, and mourned there the death of the 
worthy Chaplain Lenhart and the heroic Captain Moore, 
whom I saw but a few days before, and talked with about his 
11 p 



242 , CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

intended -vdsit home to Boston. But while I have mourned, 
I have also rejoiced over our camps, in wliich none were 
killed, and our officers and sailors so many of whom were 
rescued. America will never forget that battle. It will 
mark an era in the history of the navy. It has taught us a 
useful lesson, and henceforth we have no more wooden walls 
as our reliance, but first our God and then plates of steel, and 
iron-clad frigates and monitors." 

Had the Merrimac been victorious, the fortress 
was ill-prepared for her, and much loss of life and 
even capture might have ensued. But the Chaplain 
was unmoved. In a letter to his family he says : 
" Fear not for me. God cares for me. I never felt 
less fear than now." Nor did this first fear of battle, 
which everything indicated would soon be the order 
of the day upon land, induce him to cast any longing 
looks homeward. He writes to his wife : " Much as I 
love you and my children, I am glad I am not with 
you, nor you with me. My duty is here ; yours, there. 
In all events, God bless you ! " Referring to the bill 
which was before Congress for the reduction of the 
chaplain's pay, he says, " I would not leave, if I had 
to live on a crust, till the con-test is over." 

In company- with Vice-President Hamlin, the Prince 
de Joinville, Senators Hale, Sherman, Anthony, and 
Wilkinson, Hon. Charles R. Train, and many other 
distinguished officials, he visited the scene of the naval 
conflict. 

" Early on Monday morning we embarked on board the 
fine steamer King Philip, which had been chartered for the 
occasion, and had brought the party from Washington. For 
three days the weather had been very stormy here. Virginia 



MERRTMAC AND MONITOR. 243 

had stood like Niobe, dissolved in tears. Was she weeping 
over the sins of her rebeUions sons ? For some cause, cer- 
tainly, she has been in a melting mood for long and weary- 
months ; but no fairer day ever shone than last Monday. 
Perhaps the hope that these officials, civil, military, and 
naval, would devise something to crush out the treason which 
has made Virginia mourn, had something to do with the un- 
wonted smile the face of the country wore that day. Wipe 
out rebellion from this State, and Virginia will wipe away 
her tears. At any rate, we saw ouce again the 'sunny 
South,' and our faces smiled as well as Nature's at the 
glad and unwonted spectacle. An excellent band also ' dis- 
coursed most eloquent music ' on the occasion, from the 
steamer's deck. 

" Our first visit was to Newport News, which we reached 
after a delightful sail of al^out an hour. Here the party 
sorrowfully viewed the charred and blackened hulk of the 
burnt frigate Congress, and gazed mournfully, but proudly 
too, on the masts of the sunken Cumberland, — that noble 
sloop-of-war which never surrendered. By request of Sena- 
tor Hale, we passed close to and slowly by this sunken vessel, 
in which are entombed ' the noble men who perished there,' 
and who had followed that heroic motto of a naval com- 
mander, ' Don't give up the ship.' They had died rather 
than surrender. The band played the ' Star-spangled Ban-, 
ner.' Fitting requiem were those inspiring strains and the 
eloquent words to which they were adapted. No mourn- 
ful dirge befits our heroic dead, but rather our country's 
martial strains \Wth which heai-t-strings vibrate in unison, 
as we resolve to emulate those who, on that blood-stained 
and sinking vessel, even in the death-agony and to the last 
gasp, *■ fought the good fight,' and did conquer, though seem- 
ingly vanquished ; for 

• The saints in all this glorious war 
ShaU conquer, though they 're slaiu.' 



244 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

"As that martial tune was played, some voices joined in 
singing its words, — 

' say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, 

.What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming; 
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, 

O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming? 
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air. 
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there. 
say, does the star-spangled banner still wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave ? ' 

" And as we sang or listened, we looked, and lo ! our ques- 
tion was answered : there from the topmast of that gallant 
ship the star-spangled banner still waved. The sunshine of 
that beautiful morning glanced from the pennant of that 
heroic vessel, still streaming from the masthead as it had 
done 'through that perilous fight.' General Mansfield has 
ordered a national flag to be afiixed to another of the masts, 
still to wave in proud defiance to the foe, say, rather, as the 
most eloquent memorial to mark the grave of those men who 
had died for that flag and the principles it typifies." 

They also visited the Monitor. 

" Its iron deck seemed almost sacred as I trod it ; for had I 
not seen that fearful but glorious contest between our little 
David and the rebel Goliath ? and did I not owe perhaps my 
life to the prowess of the little Monitor? Does not the 
country owe a debt, also, to that gallant defender, which gold 
can never pay ? We were politely received by Lieutenant 
Jeffers, her commander, and all parts of the Monitor exhib- 
ited, and the tower, or ' cheese-box,' as the rebels called it, 
was revolved for our inspection. Of course I shall not de- 
scribe its armament or mechanism. Too freely has that 
been done by others already. I felt her invincibility, how- 
ever, as never before, and should now hear that the Merri- 
mac had steamed down for a conflict with almost as much 



MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 245 

joy as would thrill the hearts of the brave officers and crew 
of the little Monitor." 

Ke says again in reference to the conflict : — 

" No officer was captured of any naval ship or military 
company on that eventful day. The enemy captured just 
twenty-three sailors, who went on board one of their tug- 
boats voluntarily, either through mistake or lured by a prom- 
ise from the pei*fidious foe that they should be set free on 
shore at Newport News. These men were carried to Norfolk, 
one dying on the way. But for the sharpshooters of the 
Indiana Twentieth from the shore, more prisoners, including 
officers of the Congress, would have been taken. Nor was 
a single man killed in camp at Newport News. Two Ger- 
mans were wounded among the soldiers on shore. Less 
than two hundred sailors and soldiers in all were killed dur- 
ing the entire naval engagement. The enemy's victory was 
a bootless one, and I believe will result in good to our cause, 
by changing our naval tactics, and forcing us to resort to 
plated steamers and gunboats, instead of wooden walls. 
Such a floating battery is far better as a means of defence 
than an entire fleet of wooden ships of war, or half a dozen 
forts, and much less expensive than are our steam wooden 
frigates or the maintaining a single fort sixty days." 



CHAPTER IV. 



THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. 



"Glory seemed betrayed." 

EVER did military expedition set out under 
more favorable auspices than the Peninsular 
campaign in the spring of 1862. Victory- 
had perched upon the Union banner in a 
series of momentous battles. Farragut's naval achieve- 
ment, transcending the rules of military science, as 
genius and genius only has power to do, had sailed 
by the embattled forts and seized the Crescent City. 
This glorious feat wrought up the zeal of the Union 
forces to a high pitch of enthusiasm, while it dealt to 
Rebellion a stunning blow, and little was needed to 
crush it forever. 

An immense army started to go up the Peninsula, 
fired with martial ardor and flushed with hope. The 
enemy were in no spirit nor force to resist its onward 
march. But the great expedition paused before York- 
town, and, observing the most cautious rules of military 
science, advanced upon the place with the progressive 
parallels of a siege, as if it had the strength of Sebas- 
topol. But the heart of the enemy failed them, and 
they evacuated. They were slowly and cautiously 



THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. 247 

pursued. They were vanquished in the battle of 
Williamsburo;. But advantage was not taken of vie- 
tory to strike an effectual blow. Slowly feeling their 
way, the Union forces advanced. The enemy, mean- 
while, by this dilatory progress, gained heart and time 
and reinforcements. When Yorktown was evacuated, 
Richmond had been almost destitute. But time had 
been given to concentrate forces there, and make for- 
tifications. Within a few miles of Richmond the bloody 
field of Fair Oaks was fought, and the discomfited foe 
fled to the city. The rebels talked of evacuating the 
capital, and all expected it to fall ; but the Union army 
did not seize the occasion to attack it. Slowly ap- 
proaching, the Federals came so near that the clocks 
of the city could be heard in the Union camp as they 
struck the hours, and from a high tree, known as the 
signal-tree, its buildings could be discerned. 

But the enemy had been reinforced, not only by 
men, but by midsummer, which had been permitted 
to come upon the Union army, breeding pestilence in 
its marshy camp. This ally, in a heart-sickening, in- 
glorious way, laid more brave Union soldiers under 
the sod than all the balls and bullets of the Rebellion. 
The enemy soon made a concentrated attack, lea™g 
Richmond feebly guarded. Now commenced a strate- 
getic movement, as it has been called,* by which the 
Union army was withdrawn, badly shattered, to the 

* Chaplain Fuller related, that after the Peninsular retreat he was in 
conversation with a Frenchman, who spoke very disparugiugly of the 
operations of the Union army in that campaign. To offset it the Chap- 
lain reminded him of Napoleon's retreat from Moscow. " Ah ! " cried 
the Frenchman, " Napoleon never retreated. That was only one grand 
retrograde movement ! " 



248 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

protection of the gunboats. The right wing, as they 
retu-ed, fiilly beheved that the other wing was being 
hurled upon Richmond ; but in this behef they were 
destined to cruel disappointment ; and they arrived 
weary and broken to the river-banks, to learn that 
the day was lost, the most reasonable anticipations of 
victory rendered vain, and one of the largest armies 
known to history, composed of a rank and file of un- 
equalled valor and endurance, reduced to a shadow. 

This was a disastrous blight upon Union hopes, and 
it thrilled painfully through every pulse of the nation. 
That most delicate thermometer of public confidence, 
finances, sunk immediately. Gold rose to an unprece- 
dented premium, and public securities declined. On 
the Saturday when the telegraph announced the sad 
finale of the Peninsular campaign, the affrighted silver 
dollar and all his progeny of change retreated instantly 
to hoarding-places, and the market was left to make 
shift, as it might, with postage-stamps and other paper 
substitutes. 

But we must leave to the deliberate inquest of his- 
tory the searching out of the causes of this dreadful 
national disaster, while we record the Chaplain's notes 
by the way. 

He writes respecting the encampment before York- 
town : — 

"Three times have I visited McClellan's gi-and and 
noble army while it was encamped before Yorktown. The 
roads, fearful beyond belief or expression ; the uncouth speci- 
mens of Southern ' chivalry ' and coarse, vehement Secession 
women ; the rich soil, almost wholly untilled, and evidencing 
years of agricultural neglect, — these have been too often 



THE PEXIXSULAR CAMPAIGN. 249 

described by correspondents to require any recital on my 
part. Nor shall I speak of privations and hardships insepa- 
rable from the condition of any large army moving rapidly 
through a hostile country. What do soldiers or visitors to 
soldiers expect, if not these ? I am stopping at the far-famed 
Nelson house, which Lord Cornwallis occupied while in 
Yorktown in 1781. It is now occupied as a hospital, and 
in these rooms, which once were filled \Wth British officers, 
and but a few days ago with Jefferson Davis, Magruder, and 
other rebel generals, now our sick officers and soldiers of the 
loyal army can be found. 

"This morning I breakfasted \\dth three rebel officers, 
captured by us last Sabbath as they inadvertently rode into 
our lines, believing the Yankees still in front of and not in 
Yorktown. These officers I found every way gentlemen, 
and though defiant of the North and a little grandiose in 
their Southern hopes, our morning breakfast, which was 
casually made together, passed off very agreeably to me. 
They declared, in answer to my questions, that they be- 
lieved a decided stand would be made at Richmond by the 
rebel army ; they thought defeat possible, and that Virginia 
would be very likely to be evacuated, but that this would 
by no means end the contest nor injure the South, except 
with foreign nations, whose assistance they have ceased to 
hope. The capture of New Orleans they admitted to be a 
heavy blow to their cause, and they candidly acknowledged 
that Beauregard, though victorious on the first day's fight at 
Shiloh, was repulsed on the second day with heavy loss. 
The blockade they believed a great hardship, and severely 
felt, but ultimately would do the South good, by making her 
self-sustaining." 

Here he secures some trophies. 

''I bring with me many reUcs, collected at Yorktown. 
One, a fierce, bloodthirsty-looking pike, used by the rebel 
11* 



250 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

soldiers. It is fourteen feet in length, adapted to cut or 
thrust, with a sharp side-knife to cut off an adversary's head 
or make him captive. I have also a piece of a shell, dug 
from the old Yorktown intrenchments near the Nelson house, 
and supposed to have been used in the ancient siege. As we 
approach the fortress strange sights and sounds salute the 
eyes and ears. We see the bombs bursting in the air, and 
hear the big gun Union and our war-ships and gunboats dis- 
coursing in thunder tones. We see the fire and thick smoke 
at Sewall's Point, and as we near the fortress we can distinct- 
ly see the rebel Goliath, the Merrimac. The fires from 
Sewall's Pomt are growing faint by degrees and beautifully 
less. It is an animated scene, I assure you, though what it 
all means we cannot yet make out. We trust it 'means 
business,' and the business which the country so urgently 
demands when it asks that the Merrimac and its den, Nor- 
folk, shall alike be taken or destroyed." 

His regiment, which had not yet joined the Penin- 
sular army, was employed in the occupation of Norfolk, 
Portsmouth, and Suffolk. The Chaplain writes, under 
date of May 12th : — 

" This Southern city and its neighbor, Portsmouth, are 
now centres of interest, and the scenes witnessed on every 
side are novel and striking. Your correspondent arrived 
yesterday morning at early dawn, and found the city in full 
and quiet possession of the national army. The Sixteenth 
Massachusetts Regiment was the first regiment entering 
either city; the right wing, with Colonel Wyman at its 
head, occupying the Gosport Navy- Yard and Portsmouth, 
of which city Colonel Wyman has been appointed military 
commandant, the left wmg being stationed at the court- 
house and jail in Norfolk. Passing up the street, I found 
the stillness of the Sabbath unbroken, as the soldiers in Httle 



THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. 251 

squads walked quietly here and there, and the sullen men 
and women at street comers or beliind the blinds of their 
houses, looked curiously and malignantly at the victors, but 
were too much cowed down to make any hostile demonstra- 
tion. Suddenly the stillness was broken by the roar of can- 
non not far off, and then a few minutes after by an explosion 
whose concussion shook earth and sea. The Merrimac ! was 
instantly the name on every lip, and a more fearful gloom 
quickly settled on the brow of every rebel citizen of Norfolk. 
The fire which the rebels had kindled in the ship had reached 
first the loaded guns and exploded them, and then the maga- 
zine of the world-noted tyrant of Hampton Roads, and she 
was no more. Soon deserters from her crew arrived, and 
confirmed the glad intelligence of the destruction of this 
monster, who had committed suicide in despair of a suc- 
cessful encounter with our champion, the little Monitor. 
The news was received with very mingled feelings by our 
troops ; they rejoiced that the Merrimac was destroyed ; they 
regretted that she was not captured or vanquished by the 
Monitor. No other vessel will ever be built on the same 
model, for she drew too much water, and was too unwieldy 
for sea or river service, and was at best but a floating battery 
for harbor defence. Mayor Lamb of Norfolk assured me 
last evening that she was not injured in her contest with the 
Monitor, save that her prow, having been bent by the Cum- 
berland's guns, was yet further displaced by a shot from the 
Monitor, which caused her to leak badly, and necessitated 
her return to Norfolk. 

" Reaching the ferry, I crossed to Portsmouth, finding the 
Elizabeth River positively yellow with tobacco and covered 
with a black scum from burning rebel steamers and gunboats, 
and the ruined navy-yard. These were all fired by the rebels, 
and were still burning or half concealed by wreaths of dense 
black smoke. O wliat a contrast Portsmouth presented to 



252 CHArLAIN FULLER. 

Norfolk ! The burning of tlie navy-yard, ruining every 
mechanic in Portsmouth, had filled full the cup of indig- 
nation against their traitorous tyrants. Our troops were 
welcomed as deliverers. Women, and even men, thronged 
about the advancing column of the Sixteenth Regiment, 
and insisted on kissing ' the old flag,' weeping tears of joy 
as they did so. Almost every woman I met, and half 
the men, bowed and smiled, gladly saying, ' You are wel- 
come.' This was of course not as an individual, for I 
knew none of the throng, but was a recognition of my con- 
nection with the araiy. The humblest soldier received an 
equal welcome. Bouquets of flowers were brought us from 
the blooming gardens, and two citizens earnestly prof- 
fered me a breakfast in an eating-house near. Ex- 
hausted and hungry from a night's march, diversified only 
by a ride for a part of the way in a mule-wagon over the 
worst of roads, I cheerfully accepted the invitation. On 
entering the house, the good woman who kept it said, ' Well, 
sir, what will you have? recollect we have to live pretty 
plainly here.' ' Oh,' was my answer, ' I am used to simple 
living in the army ; give me a bit of beefsteal?:, and that will 
do.' ' Steak ! ' was the exclamation ; ' we have none.' ' Very 
well, some ham and eggs.' ' Eggs ! there are none to be had 
now.' ' Ah ! then just some bread and butter, and a cup of tea.' 
' Butter and tea ! ' said my poor hostess ; ' sir, the like of us poor 
folks have n't seen such things for a long time, nor is there 
a pound of tea to be bought in all Portsmouth.' I rather 
despaired of any further calling of the bill of fai-e, and left 
it entirely to my entertainers, who soon produced some ham, 
corn bread, rye coffee, and excellent oysters. This I find to 
have been a luxurious meal amid this starving population. 
The excitement was intensified when I insisted on paying 
a quarter of a dollar for my entertainment. 'What, real 
money ! ' said the poor woman, and she exhibited it at once 



THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. 253 

to an admiring crowd, who looked upon it as a memento of 
their bygone happy days. I have nan-ated this incident 
accurately, as it shows the almost utter destitution both of 
money and provisions on the part of the inhabitants of this 
long-oppressed people. 

" Leaving the house, my attention was attracted by a 
throng swarming to the river. It seemed as if Norfolk and 
Portsmouth were shaken to the centre with excitement. 
Many whispered hopefully, some mournfully, 'The citizens 
are rising against the Unionists.' All such hope or fear was 
soon dissipated, for, elbowing my way through the crowd, I 
saw the little Monitor anchored in the stream, and let me 
assure you she excited as eager a gaze as could the Merri- 
mac in New York harbor. A great many ' could n't see it.' 
* Where ! where is she ? ' they cried, refusing to believe that 
the insignificant tub or cheese-box was the dreaded Monitor 
who had fought the monster Merrimac five hours, and di'iven 
her back leaking to Norfolk. 

" I cannot describe the ruined navy-yard adequately. The 
scene is too sorrowful. Fifty large mechanic shops and ware- 
houses are smoking ruins ; blackened hulks of steamers or 
gunboats lie on every side ; huge piles of coal are still burn- 
ing. The houses of ofl^icers alone are saved, and these by 
the efforts of citizens, not by the sparing mercy of the rebels. 
What folly, as well as sin ! By that conflagration, a fatal 
blow is dealt to Virginia, and that by the hands of her pro- 
fessed special friends. This rebelUon is making itself in- 
famous, even at the South, by its wanton incendiary fires. 
The navy-yard dry-dock yet remains but little injured, only 
the front stones being loosened and the gates burned. The 
attempt to blow it up proved a failure. 

" We are just in time to prevent another crime of slavery. 
The Norfolk Day-Book of Saturday, now in my hands, has 
the following advertisement in its columns : — 



264 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

' Sale of Free Blacks for City Taxes. 

' City Collector's Office, Norfolk, May 6, 1862. 
' Under the provisions of an ordinance directing the sale of all free 
blacks who fail to pay their city taxes, I shall, before the door of the 
City Hall, on Monday, May 12, at 12 o'clock IL, sell the following- 
named persons for the term specified by said ordinance.' 

" Here follow the names of 07ie hundred and twelve males, 
and two hundred and four females. I was at the place at 
the given time, but found no opportunity to buy a slave, had 
I desired so atrocious a crime. God be praised, slavery is 
doomed ! None welcome so loudly, none so gladly, our sol- 
diers as the slaves of these two cities. Whether others be 
Unionists or not, they surely are. 

" All speak enthusiastically of the noble head of our na- 
tion, — the providential man, the Moses of our Israel ! I 
never witnessed so much enthusiasm about any man as about 
that plain, homely, gaunt being, who walks unostentatiously 
among our soldiers, and whom they greet as their truest 
friend." 

The regiment were soon ordered to Suffolk. The 
Chaplain says, in a letter dated June 9th ; — 

" We are here, for a time, encamped on the * Fair Grounds,' 
less than a half-mile from the centre of the town ambitiously 
styled Suffolk City. In the whole town, or city if you will, 
ai'e sixteen hundred inhabitants, two hundred of whom are 
free negroes. The slaves have mostly disappeared, such 
Southern riches taking to themselves, not wings, but legs, in 
times like these, and disappearing rapidly ' between two 
days.* Many more have been sold into further and more 
hopeless Southern bondage, to save them from tiie misfor- 
tune their masters assure us freedom is to the black race. 
The principal street in Suffolk is lined on either side with 
elm-trees ; the houses are neatly built, and in general in 
good repair, and, on the whole, the town wears a more trim. 



THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. 255 

New-England aspect than I have elsewhere seen in Virginia. 
This was one of the old Whig strongholds in the' days gone 
by ; now no place is more bitter in its Secession tone, though 
growing much more moderate since the occupation of the 
place by the Sixteenth Massachusetts Regiment, who, by the 
wise discipline of the officers, and their firm, strict .bearinof 
toward the citizens, and by the good order of its private 
soldiers, have won the involuntary respect of the inhabitants. 
The absence of any attempt at ' conciliation ' on our part, 
and the unhesitating avowal of our opinions and their rea- 
sons, have proved most salutary. A weak policy is always a 
false one, and amiability is a synonyme for imbecility, and 
conciliation for cowardice, in the rebel dictionary. The 
town is on the very borders of the Dismal Swamp, and the 
location can hardly be a healthy one ; but thus far, by strict 
sanitary regulations and the utter prohibition of the sale of 
spirituous liquors to the men, the health of the regiment is as 
good as ever. In the north parish of the town, I am told, 
two schools exist which are termed free. They are supported 
by a fund accumulated by the earnings of several slaves, who 
were left by will for that purpose seventy years ago. The 
slaves are dead now, but the monument of their unrequited 
toil remains. Of course no colored person is permitted to be 
educated in these schools. The very children and grand- 
children of these swarthy laborers have been and are ex- 
cluded. Only wliite children can be benefited by the coined 
blood and sweat of these sable sons and daughters of Africa. 
A free institution founded on slavery ! Can such an anomaly 
long exist? Must not either the institution or its founda- 
tion perish ? " 

He thus refers to the Secession females : — 

" The women, misnamed ladies, and disgracing womanhood 
itself, continue to insult our soldiery, relying on the immu- 



256 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

nity from punishment their sex receives. General Butler's 
order, rightly interpreted, would do no harm here, and some- 
thing of the kind is greatly needed. 

" I know how difficult it is to deal with such rebels, who 
forget their sex, and with it decency itself; but if they 
forget that they ever were ladies, can they complain if occa- 
sionally we forget it likemse ? " 

His regiment is now called to join the Peninsular 
army. He writes on June 11th : — 

"I rejoice that my regiment is not left at ease and in 
safety as the decisive hour draws nigh. Terrible as is the 
ordeal of battle, I would not shrink from that fearful sight, 
nor for whole worlds be absent when word or prayer or feeble 
act of mine might avail anything to soothe or aid the noble 
men who fight for all that is dear and holy. I know no 
holier place, none more solemn, more awful, more glorious, 
than this battle-field shall be. Let any deem the feel- 
ing wrong who will, on that ground I would rather stand 
than in any pulpit in America, and never can I pray more 
fervently than on that day that God would bless our dear 
soldiers and give them success, and scatter before them the 
enemies of all righteousness, the enemies of man and of God, 
like chafi" before the driving storm. I love peace, love it so 
much that, were it needful and consonant with my vocation, 
I would fight for it. ' Blessed are the peacemakers,' and 
these to-day I believe pre-eminently to be the men who 
carry a rifle at the shoulder or a sword by the side, and ai'e 
determined to ' conquer peace,' and to estabHsh it ' by force 
of arms,' on so firm a foundation that our children and chil- 
dren's children shall never be vexed by war's rude alarms." 

Of an historical mansion he says : — 

" To-day I have visited the White House here, built on 



THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. 257 

the foundations of that in wliich Washington wooed and won 
IMrs. Custis as his wife, and in wliich the first years of his 
married life were passed. Singular to say, the AYliite House 
is not white, but brown. It was recently owned and occupied 
by Colonel Lee, a son of General Lee of the rebel army, and 
himself m the same ignoble service. The house is beauti- 
fully situated apd prettily furnished. An old table and 
clock which belonged to Washington are still in its rooms, 
and these are the only reUcs of the immortal Wasliingtou I 
saw. When our soldiers entered the house, they found the 
piano open, and a music-book also outspread, as if just used 
by some fair rebel. On it Mrs. Lee had written, ' Northern 
soldiers, who profess to venerate the memory of Washington, 
respect this house, in wliich he passed the first years of his 
married life.' They have done so ; the house is uninjured, 
and carefully guarded, though IVIi's. Lee's modest request 
yesterday, to have the table of Waslungton and several 
other things sent to her within the rebel lines, has not yet 
been granted. Opening the music-book I found also the 
opera / Puritani, The Puritans. I wonder how Mrs. Lee 
and the Colonel like the Puritans of to-day, and whether 
she rejoices in the triumphs which show the Puritan blood 
yet runs in their veins, while the descendants of the Cav- 
aliers run before Massachusetts Puritans, as theii* ances- 
try did before Cromwell's army." 

He visited, too, a memorable church. 

" We rode through an avenue of trees, which form the 
entrance to the White House, and soon came 'to an opening 
or intervale, which for extent and beauty rivalled a Western 
prairie. It was enamelled with flowers, and looked as peace- 
ful amid the lofty groves and rugged bluffs, as though it were 
some happy valley smiling serenely amid frowning cliffs and 
stately, solemn trees. A half-mile more brought us to a 

Q 



258 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

foimtain sheltered by a few stately oaks, beneath which it 
murmured forth its gentle invitation for the thirsty traveller 
to stop and drink of its refreshing waters. We were not 
unmindful of the request, and found the draught a pleasant 
contrast to the brackish waters common in Virginia. Strik- 
ing into a bridle-path, we entered a little glen, as charming as 
I have ever seen, even in the groves of dear old Massachu- 
setts. Passing on as rapidly as my unchristian horse would 
allow, who resented every appHcation of my spurred heels 
by kicking viciously, we went through a camp strewn with 
coats and knapsacks which our soldiers left behind them as 
they ' went marching on,' and saw anon the quaint old church 
in which Washington was married. It is beautifully located, 
amid arching oaks, whose interlaced branches twine appro- 
priate chaplets to his memory. The chm'ch is built of bricks 
imported from England. It is a rude and simple structure, 
as we judge by the light of to-day, though in its time deemed 
rather an elegant edifice. None worship there just at present 
but the twittering swallows, who ' have made there a nest 
for themselves, even thine altars, O my God.' " 

But there v^ere sadder scenes to witness. He 
writes ; — 

" I have visited most of the tents wherein lie the sick 
and wounded, and their inmates bear uniform testimony to 
the skill and kindness of these noble surgeons who are per- 
forming such holy and honorable service at this hour of our 
country's need. God bless them! I find here also ]\Iiss 
Harriet Fanning Read, the poetess, a native of Boston, who 
is here nursing and cai'ing for the suffering and the dying. 
Here too are most excellent and devoted ladies connected 
with the Sanitary Commission, and our friends at home may 
be well assured that all possible is done for the sick and 
wounded of this ' grand army of the Potomac' " 



THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. 259 

Martial scenes were now tlie order of the day. On 
June 14th he writes : — 

" We are encamped on this field, but recently the scene of 
the most sanguinary encounter which this war has yet wit- 
nessed or the country itself ever known. Beneath us and 
on every side are recent graves, sown thick with men, while 
the woods all around us are full of the bodies of rebels, as yet 
unburied, the number of the slain being too great to have yet 
been entirely disposed of. Arms, accoutrements of every 
kind, are strewn about, while the two or three houses beneath 
the ' fair oaks ' which give the true name to this battle-field 
are completely riddled with balls and shell. The ' seven 
pines ' are close by, which first gave an erroneous title to the 
battle-field, which all the resident Virginians call ' Fair 
Oaks,' which is the designation of the railroad station near. 

"This division (Hooker's) is emphatically a fighting di- 
vision, its general being famiUarly termed ' Fighting Joe 
Hooker,' and is abundantly dreaded by the enemy. I be- 
lieve the Sixteenth Regiment -will not bring upon it any 
reproach, but will do its entire duty in the approaching con- 
flict. Time will erelong show in reference to this, and may 
it exhibit an honorable record. , 

" We are living with republican simplicity here, I assure 
you. The staiF officers have but soldiers' rations, and we all 
sleep on the ground, and officers and privates share hardships 
together. But such is a soldier's life, and I hear no murmur- 
ing, and have none myself to utter. 

" Of course I cannot speak of plans or positions here. 
vSuffice it that we are close upon Richmond, and hope soon to 
enter the rebel ca})ital. How soon or by what movements it 
would be improper to write. 

" All our baggage is left behind, we retaining no more than 
what can be carried in the coat-pocket or haversack." 



260 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 



On the 17th he writes 



" "We are encamped on the field recently the scene of the 
most sanguinary strife in the annals of American warfare, foi 
on this spot, when the true narrative of this war is wTitten, 
it will appear that more lives were lost, more wounds re- 
ceived, than in any other conflict of this struggle, or in any 
of its predecessors on this continent. 

" The terrible evidences of the bloody nature of this fight 
are all about us. In one grove sixty-seven bodies are buried, 
and the soil is sown thick with mounds, in which lie heaps 
of slain. 

"Nor do we need to read the record of the past week, 
written in blood and bones on this plain, though each day has 
its own dangers and horrors. On Sunday I was three times 
under fire, — twice in my OAvn regiment and once while on 
a brief visit to the Twenty-ninth Massachusetts. Early in 
the morning of that day the shot and shell flew thick and 
fast over our heads, and we were momentarily expectmg a 
general engagement, and in the evening the same scene was 
repeated ; but prudence was, on both occasions, the best 
part of rebel valor. At noon of same day, a very fierce 
attack was made while we were at dinner with the Twenty- 
ninth, in Meagher's Brigade. 

" Add to this a most fearful, raging thunder-storm, in which 
the artillery of heaven rivalled and drowned at intervals the 
jarring thunders, of our cannon, and you have a day more 
stirring than could be dreamed of on a peaceful New Eng- 
land Sabbath. On Monday morning, very early, at two and 
five A. M., we were twice called again into line of battle by 
similar attacks, but no general engagement ensued, though in 
these encounters lives and limbs were lost on our side and 
doubtless on the other. We realize here what war means, 
and that it implies suffering, wounds, death. 



THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. 261 

'' We make no complaint of privations. They are unavoid- 
able, generally, when large masses of men are moved. And 
this swampy gromid, this cold summer with its incessant 
rains, the necessity of leaving most of our tents and other 
comforts behind, render such hardships unavoidable for us. 
For three nights 

' My lodging was on the cold, cold ground,' 
with but a solitary blanket for protection. Yesterday we 
made rude beds of pine-boughs, and are more comfortable in 
that respect. ' Hard-tack,' or crackers, what the soldiera 
call ' Hardee tactics,' coffee destitute of any milk or sugar, 
and ' salt-horse,' as the men term salt beef, were the rations 
of officers and privates alike, but we are doing better to-day, 
and shall doubtless be better provided for when our supplies 
can reach us. 

"The rainy days, and strangely cold nights following even 
the days most glowing and sultry, have tried and must try 
our constitutions, but sanitary care wards off most of the dan- 
ger ; and all will be well if only we can witness Richmond 
taken, the rebel army routed, and can hear that Charleston, 
the head of the snake Secessia, is crushed, and the rebellion 
dead or dying, and this consummation devoutly to be wished 
cannot be far off. God speed the day ! " 

On the 19th he describes an engagement. 

" Yesterday witnessed the first bloody skirmish in which 
the Sixteenth Massachusetts regiment has been engaged. 
We call the battle a skirmish, — ' Woodland Skirmish,' — 
it being in advance of the scene of the Fair Oaks battle, 
or of any place where a fight has yet taken place between 
us and our foes. 

"The camp of this regiment has been some three times 
exposed to fire, shot and shell reaching us, but producing no 
casualties ; and yesterday a sharp attack upon the left wing 



262 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

of the army, where we are located in the front rank, called 
out this whole brigade under arms. It was deemed best by 
General McClellan to order a reconnoissance in force by one 
regiment, and ours was selected for the dangerous and im- 
portant service. At 3^ P. M. the entire regiment was ordered 
under arms, and sent forward into the woodlands where it 
was supposed the enemy lay, and beyond which his batteries 
were known to be. No man shrunk from his duty. Your 
correspondent was ill with a sick-headache, but felt it to be 
no more than liis duty to go forward with his regiment to a 
scene which was certainly one of peril, though of honor also. 
We marched over the field, where a multitude of graves of 
the fallen in the late battle of Fail' Oaks met our view ; indeed, 
we are encamped on that field where Casey's di\'ision were 
before the last battle. "We soon reached the woodlands in 
our front, where the regiment (Jeployed as skirmishers. The 
woods proved to be full of rebels snugly ensconced in their 
rifle-pits, and a large fortification supplied with artillery was 
just beyond the woods. The action was soon brought on, 
and was short, shatp, and terrible. I can truly say that our 
regiment behaved nobly, and I saw no flinching on the part 
of any man. The only fault I will find, if any, was that 
they were too rash, and pushed forward too detenninedly, 
considering the tremendous odds both of position and men 
against which we were contending. The enemy were cer- 
tainly in force, five to our one, knew every tree and ravme, 
and were protected by rifle-pits. Of course our brave men 
fell fast, and soon we bore away, wounded or dying, five brave 
soldiers whom I have since buried. 

" We drove the enemy back from the woods to their in- 
trenched fortifications, but were unable to hold our ground 
or bring off our dead under the murderous fire of their artil- 
lery. Double the number of our loss must have fallen killed 
and wounded of the rebel forces by the courageous fire of 



THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. 263 

our men. We took three prisoners. We ascertained, too, 
the force and position of the enemy, which was the whole 
intent of the reconnoissance." 

On the 21st he speaks of an assault. 

" Yesterday afternoon at three o'clock, the battery of the 
enemy which was mimasked by the Sixteenth Massachusetts 
Regiment, in their reconnoissance of last Wednesday, opened 
full fire upon Grover's brigade, then doing guard and picket 
duty, which here requires an extra brigade for each wing and 
one for the centre of the ai-my. As the Sixteenth Regiment 
was then on the advance picket, your correspondent at once 
proceeded to the field. The 'fair oaks' were struck by 
many shot and shell, and the enem/s missiles flew pretty 
lively for about an hour. Several shrapnel shell burst and 
spilled their contents about our heads in a very disagreea- 
ble way. These shells were filled with large bullets, Ken- 
tucky rifle-balls, Minie bullets, &c. They fired also some 
canister shell and a few solid shot. Tliis firing was more 
severe than any we have yet been exposed to, and the guns 
were evidently of long range, as some shell passed over our 
camp as well as the regiment in the field in front. No cas- 
ualty, however, took place, the shell doing no special damage 
to us. Artillery firing on men in an open field is really less 
dangerous, though more noisy, than rifle volleys in wood or 
field. The Sixteenth certainly gets its share of action and 
peril now, but the boys are fast becoming accustomed to the 
smell of powder. 

"We hear regularly, morning and evening, the enemy's 
band playing, and their drum-beat at reveille and tattoo. The 
object of the assault yesterday was to prevent the further 
construction of our works and reach our batteries, and if 
possible destroy our camp. Their effort was in all respects 
a failure. On the field, attracted by the firing, I met Gen- 



264 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

eral Kearnej, the brave general who lost an arm in the 
Mexican war, but who rides now into the battle-field with 
his rein in his mouth and his sword in his remaming hand, 
an impersonation of military skill and precision, and greatly 
admired and loved by all the soldiery. He was accompanied 
by the Count de Paris, who wa^ full of interest in the result 
of our arms, and seems a truly noble and worthy young 
man." 

On the 22d he vrrites : — 

" Each day brings its own excitement and novel scene ; 
almost each hour witnesses here in the front line some in- 
cursion of the enemy or reconnoissance by ourselves, some 
wounded, perhaps dying soldier, shot barbarously on picket 
by the rebels, or some deserter or prisoner brought into our 
lines and passing through our camp. We occupy the ground 
on which Casey's division lately were ; a field which, by its 
graves and yet unburied dead, shows evidences of its sangui- 
nary scenes. 

" Every now and then a shrapnel or canister shot or shell 
reaches the camp, and throws it into a little confusion, though 
not causing, I beheve, so much alarm as rather pleasing 
excitement. 

" Yesterday we had a whirlwind, or wind-spout, which took 
stray blankets, newspapers, letters, &c. high in air, and 
passed rapidly through this camp and others, certainly afibrd- 
ing us some little variety. 

" Yesterday noon an attack was made with artillery upon 
this division, while the Sixteenth Massachusetts was on the 
outer picket, causing no small stir, as the shot and sheU flew 
all about us. 

"I was under the 'fair oaks,' which gave the name to 
the recent battle, and where the shell scattered in great pro- 
fusion. After the attack I gathered one or two handfuls of 



THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. 265 

bullets and IMiiiie balls with which shrapnel shell were filled, 
and which flew almost like rain about us, yet, strange to say, 
no one was hurt by any of them." 

Another conflict is near. Under date of June 27th 
he writes : — 

" This exciting life, amid the noise of screaming shot and 
shell, with daily attacks upon our front line, affords incident 
enough for correspondence, but scarce one quiet moment in 
which to write. Day before yesterday was one of unusual 
Btii', and marked by a most sanguinary conflict, in which this 
whole division (Hooker's) was engaged, and in which many 
a gallant soul breathed its last sigh as it quit its moi*tal tene- 
ment. At an early hour the entire division was notified to 
be under arms and ready for the field. At seven o'clock the 
line of march was taken to the woodlands occupied by the 
enemy, in front of the late Fair Oaks battle-field. The First 
and Eleventh Massachusetts and Twenty-sixth Pennsylvania 
were among the earliest to enter the woodlands, where they 
deployed as skirmishers. The Sixteenth Massachusetts, 
Eighty-seventh New York, and Twentieth Indiana, and 
other regiments remained in the outskirts of the woods as 
support. Action was not long delayed ; soon the forest 
echoed with sharp volleys of musketry. Each dell and 
ravine was alive with rebels in ambush. They were cour- 
ageously driven from these fastnesses, but not without heavy 
loss on both sides. Just beyond the groves, in a field, the 
rebels have a battery. Our forces penetrated through the 
woods to this field, and found tliemselves under fire from 
the rifle-pits and battery there. Tlie enemy poured forth 
in solid column, and with wild hurralis attacked our soldiery. 
At this time, many of the First Massachusetts, Second New 
Hampshire, and Twenty-sixth Pennsylvania were wounded 
or killed ; but all along the line the enemy were repulsed, 
12 



266 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

and retreated. Wounded rebels, with some prisoners, were 
now brought in to the spot where your correspondent was 
standing, and where also the surgeons and some commanding 
officers were. These rebels seemed defiant, and, though ex- 
pecting ultimate defeat at Richmond, declared that would not 
end the war. Their haversacks were pretty well supplied 
with soft biscuit and bacon for food, but they 'had no coffee in 
their canteens, and they said that was ' long since played out 
in the Confederate army as part of rations.' Their wounded 
bore their pains less cheerfully and uncomplainingly than our 
own men, though cai^ed for with equal tenderness. I think 
my feeling toward the rebellion does not bias my judgment 
on this point, but the difference was noticeable with all 
present. , 

" Toward evening the Sixteenth Massachusetts, Twen- 
tieth Indiana, and Eighty-seventh New York were- subjected 
to a fierce attack by the rallying rebels. The first-named 
regiment had but little share in the earlier portion of the 
conflict, but at five o'clock were sent forward to support 
advancing artillery, and the rebels attempting a flank move- 
ment, the Sixteenth was encountered by a full brigade of the 
foe, and endured a cross flre for some little time. This regi- 
ment, which distinguished itself in a brilliant skirmish on the 
18th instant, fought with much determination now, but was 
obliged to fall back, owing to the immense superiority of the 
force arrayed against them. Being reinforced by a portion 
of Couch's division, it rallied anew under its gallant officers, 
and thus returned to the charge, the enemy being driven 
from the field. I sent you yesterday a list of the killed and 
wounded and missing of this regiment, twenty-nine in num- 
ber. I did this, not because their conduct in action was more 
meritoriouB than other regiments, or their loss greater in a 
contest where all did well, and many regiments suffered even 
more than they; but, being with them, I know more accu= 



THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. 207 

rately the details of their losses. Twice during the week the 
Sixteenth Massachusetts Regiment, just arrived on the field, 
has had a baptism of blood, losing sixty men in casualties 
on the 18th instant, and twenty-nine on- the 25th.* It has 
proved worthy to stand by the side of other noble regiments 
from the glorious loyal States. It asks no higher praise or 
honor. 

" The houses and trees beneath which wounds were being 
dressed by the surgeons presented sad scenes indeed; but 
many of these were noble and worthy of note. Private 
"William C. Bentley, wounded by the shell of the enemy, 
both legs broken, and arm and head mangled, yet not im- 
mediately killed, displayed great calmness and courage. He 
declined any stimulating drink or opiate which might dim 
his consciousness until he had first heard prayer, expressed 
his religious trust and faith, and sent messages of love and 
advice to his mother ; then he sank into that sleep which 
knows no earthly waking. .Private Francis Sweetser of 
Company E, Sixteenth Massachusetts, lay wounded through 
the abdomen, in nmch pain, but quiet and smiling, as though 
the hour was full of joy to him. ' Thank God,' he said, 
' that I am permitted to die for my comitry ; thank God yet 
more that I am prepared ' ; tlien he modestly added, ' at 
least I hope I am.' We who knew him, and his humble 
Christian life in his regiment, have no doubt of the full 
assurance of his faith, and that all he hoped is now realized 
in bliss. Of the First Massachusetts there were noble men 
nobly dying, and of the Twentieth Indiana and other regi- 
ments the same could well and truly be said. None can 
realize the faith and heroism, the high and noble character 
ol' our volunteers as a body, wlio has not witnessed a scene 
like that. 

♦ Afterward, during Pope's retreat, this regiment lost a hundred men in 
less than fifteen minutes, while charging upon the enemy. 



268 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

" Our own artillery was not idle, and the havoc among the 
enemy must have been fearful. Repulsed on every side, 
they withdrew, and as .a result of the battle our pickets were 
advanced more than a mile nearer Richmond that evening 
than ever before. The cheering along our lines last night, 
and the rejoicing bands of music show that the right wing of 
the army, too, were not idle, while we of the left were ex- 
posed in conflict. Tliis advance is very gratifying, and the 
heavy cannonadmg of yesterday and to-day proves that the 
enemy is being di'iven from his stronghold." 

The unlooked-for retreat now commenced. The 
Chaplain was providentially spared its sufferings. On 
June 28th he is again at the White House, and 
writes : — 

" Once agam I am visiting tliis now famed and henceforth 
doubly historic locality. Yesterday morning all was unusual- 
ly quiet in our camp. It seemed to me an appropriate time 
to visit White House Landing, and secure some expressage 
which had been sent me, and forward by Adams's express, 
which had an office there, some money and other valuables 
which had been committed to my charge by members of the 
regiment, for the purpose of safe forwarding. There was 
then no dream of immediate movement any more than there 
has been for weeks and even months past, — all was sup- 
posed to be triumphant along our entire line. Martin dale's 
brigade was reported to have talvcn a heavy battery from the 
enemy, and the evening before our regiment had been sum- 
moned from their repose to fall into hne to hear two de- 
spatches from McClellan as to the success over the enemy 
at Mechanicsville. An hour before my departure came an 
order to be ready for a movement at any moment, and as 
several of us were encumbered with trunks and other com- 
forts of home, deemed superfluous luxuries in camp, it seemed 



THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. 269 

doubly advantageous that I should proceed to White House 
and see to their safe storage. About the same time sprang 
up a faintly whispered report of some disaster on our right 
wing, at a distance from our position ; but none seemed to 
credit it, so opposite \vas it from what Ave were expecting. 
Some panic was said to have existed at White House, from 
apprehensions of another raid ; that, too, was deemed a mere 
frightful memory of the former disaster in that neighborhood. 
It did seem best, however, if a movement were soon to be 
made, to at once disencumber ourselves of all extra baggage 
and money, and other valuables, and then we should be all 
ready for action. So at nightfall I started for the White 
House, sorry to be absent even an hour from camp, but as- 
sured of being back again the next morning. 

" I found on arriving at White House that all was confu- 
sion. The Quartermaster would store no more baggage. 
Adams's express-office had abruptly departed, and it did 
seem for a while as if all things under my charge must be 
abandoned to their fate. I was counselled to take that 
course, indeed, but refused, and finally succeeded in getting 
a guard stationed over my baggage, which was left in the 
open air on the river-bank till morning. Where I was to 
sleep was a difficult problem. Many tents were struck al- 
ready, the steamers were crowded, and, homeless and shelter- 
less, I stood on the river's bank at nine o'clock in the evening, 
hungry, * weary, but afraid to sleep on the ground with so 
many valuables intrusted to my charge on my person, yet 
utterly exhausted. At last I did manage to lie do\\ai, without 
mattress or blanket, amid a group of sleepers on the floor of 
a steamer's cabin, and there slept, and slept soundly too. No 
New England servant but would ' throw up his commission,* 
abandon the service very quickly, had he such fare and lodg- 
ing as is the choicest given to officers or soldiers, in the 
Grand Army. It is well enough, doubtless, that we should 



270 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

tlius learn to prize the comforts of home. Next morning 1 
succeeded in getting all my stores and valuables into the 
hands of a trusty messenger of Adams's express, and getting 
my pass, proceeded at an early hour to the railroad station 
to take passage for my regiment; but alas for such plans 
and iny hopes ! just as the train was about to leave for its 
destination, tidings came that the station above was in the 
hands of the rebels, and our communication with the main 
army by railroad cut off. Of course there was no way to be 
taken but to go down the river in a steamer to Fortress Mon- 
roe, and thence up the James River to some point whence the 
main army can be reached again. To go forward any other 
way would be to advance ' onward to Richmond,' and visit 
that city a Httle prematurely. I prefer to go there with my 
own regiment, in due time, rather than under rebel escort 
now. 

" Then ensiied a destruction of all stores and buildings, 
which was fearful, yet grand to contemplate. All supphes 
were put on board schooners and transport steamers, which 
were sent down stream. This was done calmly by the mili- 
tary authorities, but mth great energy. A vast deal, how- 
ever, of public property could not be saved. Soon a large 
encampment of tents was in flames. Two long trains of 
railroad-cars were burned, with their contents. Every now 
and then an explosion took place wliich filled the au* with 
fraoments and towering columns of smoke and flame. A 
huge storehouse of bacon sent volumes of black smoke up- 
ward. The stores chiefly abandoned were sutlers' stores, 
belonging to a class who excite less sympathy than any other 
in the army when they suffer loss. One sutler abandoned a 
storehouse containing four thousand dollars worth of goods ; 
another of one thousand dollars in value. The ' boys ' rev- 
elled in these, as all things were free that day, and men 
procured a good dinner or clothing outfit ' without money 



THE PEXIXSULAl? CAMPAIGN. 271 

and without price.' As tliey sorely needed one good meal and 
to be reclothed, and the sutlers could well afford the supply 
from their profits, the siglit was, upon the whole, a pleasant 
one. All this time the White House, belonging to the rebel 
Colonel Lee, stood unbanned. It is a modern structure, and 
it is a shame that any such house should stand on the site of 
what once was the home of Washington, to shelter rebels and 
haters of the country for which he lived and suffered. Few 
of us grieved when this property of a rebel officer was in 
flames, also, as by its destruction nothing which Washington 
ever touched or looked upon was consumed. 

" Meanwhile the old scows, filled with bulky stores, were 
buiTied, some wagons which could not be removed were 
burned or rolled over the bank and broken, while old mus- 
kets, rebel relics from Fair Oaks, shovels, pickaxes, etc., 
were committed to the- bosom of the Pamunkey, to be con- 
cealed there in that muddy stream. Horses careered wildly 
about, terrified contrabands brought over boats, while the in- 
cendiaries, with a good purpose, applied the torch on every 
side. Surgeons were deta,iled to destroy sucli of the hospital 
stores as could not be removed, which they did effectually. 
The scene was soon grander, wilder, more brilliant than I 
have ever witnessed before. The very clouds caught the 
.lurid glow, and reflected in radiant hues the sad, fearful 
splendor below. Bursting bombs made noise like the shock 
of thunder-clouds, and scattered fragments about till earth 
and sky seemed mingled in one a\vful conflagration. The 
old theories and pictures of the judgment-day seemed glow- 
ingly actualized and painted anew on the twofold canvas of 
earth and sky. That scene it was a sorrowful but great 
privilege to witness ! Since it must have been done, I am 
glad to have had such an experience. An artist was sketch- 
ing it, so that some faint idea will be given of it to the pub- 
lic by a sketch other than this of words. O the desolation, 



272 CHAPLAh FULLER. 

the waste of war ! When shall it end, and a righteous peace 
be declared, without compromise or surrender of justice or 
the Union? 

"This river upon which we are now floating was pre- 
viously almost a stranger to me, even by its name, so little 
euphonious. It is the most winding and tortuous stream 1 
ever saw, making such bends as to give the idea, as you see 
steamei*s in the distance almost parallel with you, that it is a 
different stream upon which they must be floating. It plays 
strange tricks of illusion in that way. It is a singularly broad 
and beautiful stream, and were it in New England its banks 
would be lined with smihng villages; now scarce a house 
is upon its banks, and its shores are either neglected or deso- 
late. In the stream, near where the White House stood 
yesterday, is an island, where live one hundi'ed and fifty 
Indians, many of them skilful pilots, and better agriculturists 
than any white Virginians on the Peninsula. These are the 
remnant of the once powerful tiibe of whom Pocahontas was 
one. They are passing rapidly away. So is, indeed, every- 
thing which once was the glory of fair, but sinful and deso- 
late Virginia." 

When the army reached Harrison's Landing, it pre- 
sented to A^ew many a sad scene. The Chaplain 
writes : — 

" I have been at this hospital for most of the past week, 
not as a patient, but caring to the best of my ability for the 
wounded and suffering sick of my own regiment, and the 
countless number from the other various regiments of the 
loyal army, scarce one of which fails to have more or less 
representatives here. The scenes one is called to witness 
here are terrible. Ghastly wounds innumerable greet the 
saddened vision ; men, sick nigh unto death ^\dth . swamp, 
pestilential fevers, make their weak moans, asking for pity 



THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN. 273 

and for succor; exhausted soldiers, after four days' hard 
fighting, with scarce any food, plead for a piece of bread, or 
they must perish with hunger ; the dying ask a word of 
counsel and of prayer, and to transmit some message to wife 
or child or mother ere the last breath be drawn and the last 
sigh heave their panting bosoms. The dead, too, lie on the 
earth beneath the sweet heavens, and their dumb, passionless 
forms require, as their once spirit-tenants have deserved, 
that those bodies lately instinct with vigorous life should be 
decently buried. 

" Beautifully situated is this building where we now are. 
The James River flows silently by, its gleaming waters whit- 
ened with countless sails rafting supplies to the hungry army, 
or its else placid face rufiled by the steamei-s which come 
daily to the landing, bringing hospital stores to the wounded 
and sick, and returning down the stream laden with those 
whose only hope of recovery or future usefulness lies in the 
revisiting of their homes and the solace of care and kindness 
there. Lofty elms line the avenue which leads to tliis dwell- 
ing, and the gigantic cottonwood interlaces its branches with 
the lordly oak, though causing its vigor to decay, and blight- 
ing by its contact. The cottonwood-tree grows almost en- 
tirely in the South, and is its representative tree, as the oak 
is of the North. As these trees intertwine and mingle, yet 
have distinct organic life and diverse qualities, so has it been 
with the North and South. Shall it ever be so again, or 
must the axe be laid at the root of the institution of one of 
them, and the soil soAvn afresh with some seed which- shall bear 
a growth homogeneous with, and not destructive to, the other ? 
This is the base of the new line of operations. It is beauti- 
ful, and has solid advantages. May its superstructure, the 
noble army, once of the Potomac, meet with substantial suc- 
cess, and Avin laurels which shall be beautiful in the eyes of 
all loyal Americans and of the friends of freedom throughout 

12* R 



274 CHAPLAIN FL'LLEE. 

the world. To-daj that army is war-worn, and its purposes 

temporarily baffled; but sucb men, fighting in such a cause, 

cannot be pemianently defeated; for 

' Freedom's battle once begxin, 
Bequeathed from bleeding sire to son, 
Though baffled oft, is ever won.' 

" Lovely as is this situation, it is not more beautiful than 
the dwelling-house which is in the centre of the town and. its 
skirting woods. It is a fit gem for such an emerald and beau- 
tiful setting. The house is of ancient brick, imported from 
England many years since, whence also came the carved 
panel-work and cornices in the rooms. President Harrison 
is reported to have been born in this house, so it has an his- 
toric interest already, and will have more in the future. It is 
elegantly furnished with rosewood and black-walnut furniture. 
Fine pictures look down upon you from the walls, and the 
library is filled with costly volumes, many of them books 
•wliich have crossed the Atlantic ere reaching here. Around 
the house cluster some twenty or more whitewashed build- 
ings, in which the one hundred and twelve plantation slaves 
lived, if theirs can be called life, and not existence only. The 
owner of this house and all its surroundings, the owner, in 
man's sight, but not God's, of all these human beings, is Pow- 
hatan B. Stark, M. D., now a surgeon in the rebel army, 
and claiming to be a Hneal descendant of Pocahontas. He 
fled precipitately when our transports hned the shores, cai'ry- 
ing off to Petersburg all the household jewels and the most 
valuable slaves also, and ordering the house to be burned by 
those remaining, an order they did not see fit to obey. He 
told such slaves as could not be hiu-ried away, that, if they 
were asked by the Yankees whether they wished to be free, 
to state that ' they are and always have been as free as they 
w.anted to be ' ; that order, too, they have failed to obey, 
but shout hallelujahs over then' deliverance from a bondage 



THE PENINSULAR CASIPAIGN. 276 

wliich, though not as heavy as usual, was nevertheless griev- 
ous, as slavery must ever be to the soul of a man made in 
the image of God." 

The Chaplain's labors in these fearful scenes were 
publicly acknow^ledged. An army correspondent 
says : — 

" I know but little of the theological notions of Chaplain 
Fuller, but I can tell you that he has got the name, in the 
army where he is known, of ' a man going about doing 
good.' It matters not how poor or how degraded a man is 
who comes in contact with Mr. Fuller, he withdraws from 
that contact a better man. 'None know him but to love 
him.' " 

Another writes : — 

" Prominent among those who ai"e active in relieving the 
sufferings of the sick and wounded soldiers, I notice the Rev. 
Arthur B. Fuller, Chaplain of tlie Sixteenth Massachusetts 
Regiment. JNIr. Fuller has been busy at the hospital from 
morning till night, administering medicines and words of 
comfort to such as were in need." 

Shortly before the Sixteenth Regiment unexpectedly- 
left Fortress Monroe, the Chaplain had obtained a fur- 
lough. On his way home the movement reached his 
ears, and he immediately retraced his steps, writing 
the following letter to his family : — 

" I am sorry to disappoint you, by not meeting you this 
week ; and it is painful to turn back to increased hardship, 
when my face was once set homeward. But I learned last 
evening, on board the boat, that my regiment had moved for- 
ward to occupy Sewall's Point, and thence to Norfolk. I 
cannot leave them in their hour of peril, when perhaps my 
prayers and counsel may be especially valuable. This is 



276 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

the first really active service of the Sixteenth. Its hardships, 
its privations, its dangers, I too must share." 

When the summons came to join the Peninsular 
army, he writes to his home : — 

" Grod be praised that we are permitted to do something to 
serve our country ! May He who doeth all things for his 
glory and man's welfare secure for us a splendid triumph 
over the forces gf rebellion and treason ! I pray for my 
country's redemption, and that even through war may 
come that freedom for which the bondman sighs, that unity 
which is the strength of a nation, that righteousness which is 
her highest glory ! " 

From the battle-field he v^^rites home : — 

" I am enduring much privation in the way of food, cloth- 
ing, and exposure. But I do not think it manly to write 
particulars, as you desire ; indeed, I endeavor not to think 
about it. Almost every day, and sometimes twice a day, I 
go out with the regiment in line of battle. I deem this my 
duty. For nine days I had no change of raiment, not even a 
clean shirt or handkerchief, and hved on hard crackers and 
sour coffee. But God blesses my labors, particularly among 
the sick and wounded, and I am far enough from repining. 
Of all places in the world, I am glad I am here now. I find 
no physical fear to be mine. This is a mere matter of 
organization, not merit. Meet me on earth, if it may be ; in 
heaven, surely. And know that nothing will make me 
swerve from my fealty to God, to Christ his Son, to my fam- 
ily, my State, and my Country." 

But the Chaplain's body was unequal' to his spirit, 
and sank under disease caused by exposure and hard- 
ship. His sickness was so severe that the physicians 
pronounced it incurable in the Virginia climate. He 



THE PENIXSULAR CAMPAIGN. 277 

was urged to seek the recoveiy of health at home. 
Among others, Hon. Frank B. Fay, Mayor of Chel- 
sea, who labored in the army on the errand of mercy 
and philanthropy, visited him and urged him to re- 
turn. His agency had much to do on this occasion 
in restoring the Chaplain in life to his family, as it 
finally was instrumental in furnishing to them the sad 
consolation of weeping over his remains and paying 
them the mournful rite of sepulture. 



CHAPTER V 



SHADOWS. 



" country, marvel of the earth 

realm to sudden greatness grown ! 

The age that gloried in thy birth, 
Shall it behold thee overthrovra ? 

Shall traitors lay that greatness low ? 

No, Land of Hope and Blessing, no ! 

«• And we who wear thy glorious name, 
Shall we, like cravens, stand apart. 
When those whom thou hast trusted aim 
The death-blow at thy generous heart 7 
Forth goes the battle-cry, and lo ! 
Hosts rise in harness, shouting. No ! " 

Bryant. 




HAPLAIN FULLER returned to his family 
broken in health and depressed in spirits. 
The sufferings he had witnessed were enough 
to overshadow a sensitive and sympathetic 
temperament, such as his ever was. Disease, too, 
contracted in the malarious swamps of Virginia, had 
fastened a hold upon him most difficult to be shaken 
off, and death seemed waiting, at a brief remove, to 
make the finale of sickness. But it was not these 
things that clouded the mind of the Chaplain. It 
was the disappointment worse than death which had 
snatched victory fi'om the expecting army, deferred 
the doom of Rebellion, and cast a gloom over the 
loyal nation. 



SHADOWS. 279 

To share a joy or sorro^y with others, we know, 
intensifies the sentiment, giving it a multiplied force. 
This almost all have experienced, when the individual 
heart has shared the sentiment of tlie circle of family 
or friendship, or, still more, when it has beat in con- 
cordance with the emotion of a popular assembly. 
But it is impossible adequately to describe, and diffi- 
cult to realize without actual experience, the power of 
an emotion in which the hearts of a nation throb in 
unison. Such was the revulsion of popular feeling 
when it was at length understood that the enterprise 
against Richmond had actually been abandoned, and 
the grand army reduced to a remnant. The blow was 
broken by veiling the news under the name of " strat- 
egetic movement " and " cliange of base." But the 
shock vibrated through the loyal nation. Rebellion 
once more raised its vaunting crest, and loyal resolu- 
tion was tried by a stern ordeal. 

Previous reverses, the '' three stinging bees " of 
Bull Run, Big Bethel, and Ball's Bluff, had only 
roused and exasperated Union patriotism to fresh en- 
terprise. This new and great disaster stunned the 
nation for a moment ; it ran so counter to public ex- 
pectation and to confident hopes held out to the public 
to the very last, and was so inexplicable, considering 
the advantages of recent success and of numerical 
superiority enjoyed by the Federals, at the outset cer- 
tainly, and up to the last days, if not throughout the 
tedious protraction of the Union advance. Yet there 
was little disposition to accuse or recriminate, or even 
whisper of betrayal. The disappointment was deep 
and mute ; as nature oflen seems to be, after some 



280 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

dread convulsion, or as .in the drama of the Apoca- 
l}^se it is said, after the opening of the seventh seal, 
" there was silence in heaven about the space of half 
an hour." 

The effort of Pope to retrieve the fortunes of the 
day with his little army of forty thousand, expecting 
aid from the Peninsular army, which a portion failed 
to render, was foiled, after the Union army had fought 
for many days, with unprecedented bravery and endur- 
ance, in a fiery furnace of repeated battles. 

But the nation aroused itself to fresh efforts. In 
response to the call of government far a new army, 
municipahties and individuals poured out money like 
water to encourage enlistments, and nobler motives 
induced heroes of every condition in life to leave 
home pursuits and the bosom of the loved family, to 
buckle on the patriot's armor. A host of half a million 
came forward as if by enchantment. 

During most of the summer. Chaplain Fuller was a 
very sick man. For a time the flame of life fhckered 
so low that it seemed about to expire. He was un- 
concerned for himself, though so fully conscious of 
his condition that he made some suggestions as to his 
funeral. But skilful medical care,* devoted nursing, 
and especially the brightened aspect of public deter- 
mination and renewed confidence, contributed to his 
gradual and partial recovery. As soon as his malady 
would permit any exertion, he raised his voice in 
public to encourage enlistments. But the returning 
violence of his disorder compelled him to desist from 
such efforts. 

* His physician was Dr. Otis E. Hunt, of Weston, Massachusetts. 



SHADOWS. 281 

Now came the rebel invasion of Maryland, finally 
repulsed, with the aid of the new levies, at the bloody 
field of Antietam. Soon another campaign was in- 
augurated against Richmond, and the Chaplain deter- 
mined to rejoin the army, though his health was by no 
means restored. He bade a tender farewell to the 
loved ones at home he was never to see again in the 
body, and departed in the latter part of October, 1862, 
to share in the renewed struggle. 

Under date of November 4th, he gives an account 
of his journey, and thus speaks of the Citizens' Volun- 
teer Hospital in Philadelphia : — • 

"This noble institution is another monument of the un- 
tiring zeal and ardent patriotism of the worthy men and 
devout women in the city of brotherly love. It is under 
the combined care of the government and citizens. The 
writer returning, still an invaUd, to liis regiment, then at 
Alexandria, found the journey too great for his strength, 
and was taken again ill in Philadelphia. Finding it impos- 
sible to proceed, I was about seeking such ease and care as 
an inn affords in these bustling days, when it was announced 
to me that an army hospital just opposite the depot was open 
night and day, and there could be obtained the medical 
attendance and the kind care I required. Nor did the state- 
ment prove illusory. Though eleven o'clock at night, the 
hospital was still open, and benevolent physicians and nui-ses 
were ready and anxious to be of service to the sick and suf- 
fering. I found it even so ; the good Father had put it into 
tlie hearts of the citizens of Pliihidclphia to build this hos- 
pital just in the place wliere it was wanted, that weary and 
sick officers and soldiers need not have a long and painful 
ride or march before the kindness of tlie excellent men and 
women of the city should be exerted in care of the ill or 



282 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

wounded. Six weeks ago, not a stick of timber was on 
this spot; now a comfortable edifice is here, its arrange- 
ments not yet completed, but all deficiencies more than 
supplied by the unpaid yet devoted services of the best 
physicians and some of the most cultivated gentlemen and 
ladies to be met with in any city. Here I found, as daily 
visitants, wealthy and refined men and women, who were un- 
wearied in their acts of kindness and attention. God bless 
them ! I entered there a stranger, yet, leaving at the close 
of a few days, felt that I had formed ties of friendship wliich 
time or death can never sunder, and which shall be perpetu- 
ated in that land where ' the inhabitant shall not say, I am 
sick,' and where no battle shall cause ghastly wounds, or 
exposure on the tented field make the frame languid and 
weary, but where the tree of life shall cover all with its 
outstretched arms and 'its leaves be for the healing of the 
nations.' 

" The next day was the Sabbath, and I was sufficiently 
recovered to visit many sick-beds in that hospital. Here I 
found several ill or wounded whose nativity was in loved 
New England. I noticed also a fine youth, a Scotch clergy- 
man's son, from Canada. He belonged to the Cameron 
(Scotch) Regiment of Highlanders, of whom ninety only 
remain, having survived the hardships and wounds of the 
battle-field and the stern ordeal of their rough campaign. 
All the others have been discharged from the ranks, or 
have perished by disease or wounds. Their leader, the 
brother of Secretary Cameron, was killed early in the war. 
One youth from Vermont was evidently dying. He seemed 
glad to have prayer offered, and all our dear New-England 
boys welcomed service from one of their own region. In- 
deed, the religious element was a pleasant feature of this 
hospital. Regular services are held each Sabbath, and it 
was a request of the soldiei-s that your correspondent should 



SHADOWS. 283 

hold a short service with them each evening while he 
staved. I never saw any audience of more reverept, eager 
listeners than those suffering men. They realize, as few 
civihans do, the need of religious support and comfort, and 
welcome the humblest effort to afford it. And here let me 
say that, contrary to the usual impression, no class of men 
are more receptive of religious instruction than those who 
compose our loyal army. War develops the worst and the 
best traits of character. The Gospel among the soldiers 
may meet with bitter opposition from some, with earnest 
welcome by others, but, if rightly presented, is heard with 
indifference by very few. The next morning our Vermont 
soldier died. It was pitiful to hear his cries for mother and 
sister then. They were perhaps far off among the green 
hills ; or did he see them at that home in the heavenly land, 
beckoning him on, as he was about to cross the portals of 
death ? Be this as ^ it may, his last whispered word was 
that which I have noted as one of the three which most 
often tremble on dying lips, as it is indeed the first which 
those lips have uttered, — Mother. The other two are 
home and heaven. 

" Resuming my journey when a few days had given suffi- 
cient strength, I reached Alexandria, and found the Sixteenth 
Massachusetts encamped on the most beautiful spot I have 
ever yet seen selected for an encampment. It is the brow 
of a high hill, near Fairfax Seminary, about five miles from 
Alexandria. By day, the wide prospect of rich autumnal 
forest, crowning hill and decking valley, is glorious beyond 
adequate description ; and on a moonlight night, the soft light 
on the landscape, and the gleaming watch-fiws from a liun- 
dred forts or camps, present a scene surpassing the dreams 
of fairy-land. The air here is as pure as the breath of 
heaven, and the debilitated and suffering men of Hooker's 
old and brave division were fast recovering, wlien marching 



284 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

orders came, a day or two since, and they have gone to 
the battle-field. It was cheering yet sorro^^^ful to take by 
the hand again the officers of this noble regiment and my 
brave soldier-boys, if I can longer call ' my boys ' those who 
are now the veterans and tried warriors of many a hard- 
fought battle. Never did I feel prouder of them; never 
sadder, than when I saw so many wasted forms or noted how 
tliinned their ranks, or marked the solenm silence as I asked 
after this man and that whom I had left alive, and now 
learned, by that silence or a single monosyllable, was — dead- 
Yet not dead ; such heroes must live, on other heights than 
these, in fields elysian, and be pronounced by the great Cap- 
tain of our salvation conquerors and more than conquerors 
through Him that loved them. They have but joined that 
silent throng who compose the army of the living God, and 
are ever marcliing on through Emmanuel's land, and shall 
one day make heaven echo with their ' Glory hallelujah,' as 
they chant the praises of Him whom God gave as a ' Leader 
and Commander to his people.' " 

He writes with a more full and free expression of 
his heart to his family, never expecting it to meet the 
public eye : "I have reached my regiment safe and 
sound. How warm the greeting, both upon the part 
of officers and men ! My own family could not be 
more cordial and more affectionate. It touched my 
heart. The poor sick men clasped my hands and said, 
' Oh, we have missed you so much ! ' I went from 
company to company, shaking hands with the officers 
and men, and* came near shedding tears myself, when I 
found how much they had suffered, and how many 
were missing, prisoners, wounded, and dead ! I feel 
now that my sickness was providential. I should have 
died months ago, had I remained in the regiment going 



SHADOWS. 285 

« 

through such a terrible campaign.* I was a Httle sick, 
and slept in the hospital, last night, but feel quite well 
this beautiful morning, and shall occupy my own tent. 
It IV as right that 1 came hack. Sorry as I am to have 
left you, I should never have been happy, without at 
least bidding these dear officers and men good-by. 
Nor should I have known how much they loved me. 
I never had a parish equally enthusiastic. Many came 
to the foot of the hill to meet me and carry my valise, 
and pressed about me with offers of ser\'ice. The men 
who were sick at Harrison's Landing declare that they 
owe their lives to me, and I am praised much beyond 
my deserts." 

The Chaplain found plenty of occupation, and he 
never confined himself to the limited duties of the 
regiment, but cheerfully extended his labors to the 
army division. He writes : "I work very hard 
among the sick and dying soldiers. We have five 
large buildmgs and several tents crow^ded with more 
than five hundi-ed sick men, and only two surgeons in 
attendance, and my services are greatly needed." 

His regiment was soon sent forward, but the sur- 
geon pronounced the Chaplain disabled by the state 
of his health from accompanying them. He writes 
home to his family : "I shall care for my health and 
life as much as I can consistently with duty, but I 
shall cheerfully bear such hardships as are inevitable." 
Again he says, in the same confidential communica- 
tion : f " I may rejoin my regiment, who have been 

♦ The regiment had a prominent share, not merely in the Peninsular 
battles, but in the subsequent severe engagements of General Tope, 
t It is hoped that the reader will bear in mind tlii-oughout these 



286 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

sent to tlie front of the line of battle. If I could en- 
dure marching and hunger and sleeping on the cold 
ground, without even a tent to shelter me, I would go 
at once, having no fear of rebel bullets, but I do not 
want to throw my life away. There are fifty-two of 
the Sixteenth Regiment sick here, and it is plainly 
my duty to stay with them, as the sick are my chief 
charge." 

He soon deteraiines to make another experiment of 
camp-life. He writes : — 

" Duty calls me to rejoin the brave Sixteenth Regiment at 
Manasses, to bear and suffer with them such hardships as 
they shall be called upon to endure. Praj Heaven this war 
be speedily ended, and all our trials over ; but may it not end 
by dishonorable compromise or one backward step by our 
good President, or by hoisting the white flag of surrender, or 
trailing our starry flag in dishonor before the columns of the 
rebels, who bear the black flag of piracy and the stars and 
bars of treason. Better war than dishonor. Better still give 
up our heart's blood in brave battle, than give up our prin- 
ciples in cowardly compromise. ' Nothing is ever really settled 
that is not settled right' May the adjustment of our national 
troubles be upon the immutable basis of justice to all men, 
freedom to all, and that basis shall be as firm as the rock of 
ages, and the peace built upon it shall be enduring as is 
eternal righteousness." 

A recurrence of his disorder detains him a few 
days, during which, however, he visits ther^sick. He 
thus describes the Fairfax Seminary Hospital : — 

"This beautiful cluster of buildings is in our imme- 

pages that most of the Chaplain's references to himself were made in 
the intimacy of confidential correspondence, and without a thought of 
publicity. 



SHADOWS. 287 

diate vicinity. They were previously occupied by an Epis- 
copal Theological School, but several of the professors were 
disloyal, and the school is removed or discontinued during 
the war. The owners are emphatically loyal men, and the 
buildings are rented by the government for our sick and 
wounded. Eleven hundred names were on the list as patients 
yesterday, many of these from Massachusetts. The little 
burial-ground here is sown thick with soldiers' graves. Three 
large barracks for the sick have been erected, besides the five 
brick buildings. how wasteful of human life is war, and 
how fearful the guilt of the traitors and rebels who have 
brought such devastation upon the whole land and filled so 
many homes with mourning ! I was glad to have looked out 
from the cupola of the seminary ere descending into the 
chambers of pain. I could not have enjoyed the prospect 
above and about me, though glorious in the crimson and 
golden splendor of autumn, had I first seen the wounded 
in those rooms below. And yet we need often to ascend 
some height of vision and look above and far beyond us, 
that we may not lose sight of the purposes of Heaven, or of 
the brilliant future which it shall give us as the recompense 
of all this sickness, pain, and death. Yes, we need to turn 
from the bloody and fearful work of war for a time, to hear 
no more the stifled groan of anguish, that we may behold the 
works of God, and believe from all tliis evil he will educe 
good. God is ever beneficent and kind, and working out his 
good purpose, whether the skies are serene and the earth 
mantled in autumnal robes of glory, or whether the sky be 
overcast and stormy, and the earth covered with its cold 
and snowy mantle. He is around and above us, too, in 
times of peace and gladness, or now when war makes 
gloomy our horizon and fills our hearts with sadness. 
Above the clangor of war's clarion, above the roar of the 
cannon, more penetrating than the gi'oans of the sick and 



288 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

wounded and dying of this dreadful hour of strife, let us hear 
his voice saying, as our Saviour did on earth, ' Lo, it is I, be 
not afraid ; peace, be stUl ! ' He who makes ' the wrath of the 
heathen to praise him,' shall, by even this fearful war, advance 
the cause of permanent peace, of true liberty, and a national 
prosperity founded on righteousness." 

He sees, too, the convalescent and the paroled 
camps, which are in the neighborhood. He writes 
respecting them : — 

" These two camps adjoin one another, and ai*e about two 
miles from this place. I visited them yesterday to see such 
Massachusetts men as might then be within their hmits. 
About five thousand soldiers from all the loyal States are 
now in the convalescent camp. The men are located each 
State by itself. In the Massachusetts portion of the camp I 
found all in admirable order, and every tent and street kept 
with perfect neatness. All are comfortably cared for ; but I 
was sorry to see some of our new recruits already in hospital, 
and some who should have been rejected at home, and thus 
their lives and health saved, and the government not saddled 
with the incubus of soldiers unfit to do a day's duty. The 
surgeons of our State are as careful as those of any other, but 
more care is still needed everywhere. 

" A part of this camp is devoted to the reception of recruits 
sent hither for all the army, and yet another part to stragglers 
from the ranks. This part I did not visit, having no desire 
to look men in the face who flee their country's service or 
leave the post of duty, without adequate cause, at such a 
time as this." 

Of the paroled camp at Annapolis he writes : — 

" Here are over seven thousand men, who have tasted all 
the bitterness of rebel bondage in Richmond and other Con- 
federate prisons. They give a fearful account of their hard- 



SHADOWS. 289 

sliips and privations during captivity, and the brutality with 
which they generally were treated. 

" AYliile in the camp, some four hundred and eighty pris- 
oners, just paroled, arrived from Richmond. They were 
destitute, cold, and hungry. Their overcoats had been taken 
from them by their rebel captors, and they had suffered 
much from hunger, but not more, they said, than their jailers 
themselves ; for the rebel army are fearfully destitute of 
clothing and provisions." 

He thus refers to Annapolis : — 

" Coming to Annapolis on Saturday, I was struck, even in 
the twilight, with the forsaken, dull aspect of Maiyland's 
capital. The day revealed its location as exceedingly beau- 
tiful, but with none of that thriving, progressive aspect which 
marks the appearance of every Northern community, where 
slavery does not curse and destroy with its blight and mil- 
dew. The Capitol is, indeed, a finely-proportioned building, 
erected long since, even before the Revolution ; and from its 
lofty dome, a most glorious landscape lies spread out like a 
scenic panorama before the vision. Thence you behold the 
city, with its curious squares, and intersecting streets, and 
antique buildings, while the river \vinds its devious way, in 
beautiful undulations, about and through the city." 

A military funeral calls him to the burial-ground. 
He writes : — 

"O, how crowded tliat burial-ground is with those who, 
full of hope, and inspired by earnest patriotism, and many 
of them by devout religious zeal and motive, volunteered 
for the suppression of this foul and treasonable rebellion 
which now makes our land desolate ! Shall all these 
sacrifices be in vain ? Shall these young, precious lives 
be offered up on our country's altar, and naught be ac- 
13 s 



290 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

complished by it ? Not so ! not so ! but God shall yet 
peiTuit us to dwell in a land purified of the foul stain of 
slaveiy, and the American nation shall become a regenerate 
people, loving liberty and working righteousness. How long, 
O Lord ! how long ere this shall be ? Tens of thousands of 
Christian soldiers on the tented field pray thee to hasten the 
dawn of that glad day ; while lonely wives and mothers and 
children in our homes echo their prayer, and while the 
souls of our martyrs in heaven take up the cry of earth, 
and mingle its prayers with their praise, as they too say, 
* How long ere thou avenge us and our brethren and fellow- 
witnesses for Liberty, whose blood calleth from beneath thy 
altar?'" 

Of the convalescent camp at Alexandria he writes : — 
" On Sunday last, in company with several members of the 
Sanitary Commission, I visited this large encampment, and 
accepted an invitation of its commanding officer to hold re- 
ligious service there. As the camp contains some fifteen 
thousand men, there was work enough to do without trench- 
ing upon the duties of the newly-appointed chaplain of this 
camp, who, indeed, welcomed me and shared in the services 
of the occasion. His Honor, Mayor Fay of Chelsea, and his 
niece, so kind and attentive to the sick soldiery, were also of 
our number, and several members of the Christian Commis- 
sion were likewise present, and aided in the singing and by 
distribution of religious reading. I think I never was present 
on an occasion more interesting. The singing, in which the 
soldiers joined heartily, lent it a charm, and, independent of 
the inadequate words spoken, the fact that such a listening 
throng of soldiers, all far from home and from so many differ- 
ent States, were assembled, and all eager, all attentive, all 
apparently longing for some earnest utterance of needed truth, 
might well have touched every heart-string. Truly it was 
good to be there.'* 



SHADOWS. 291 

The hope of the Chaplam to be able to share the 
hardships of the campaign with his regiment was dis- 
appointed. The diet and exposure at once renewed 
the violence of his malady, incapacitated him for duty, 
and sent him to the hospital, to be a hinderance instead 
of a help. He is reluctantly brought to the conclusion 
that he must conform to the army surgeon's advice, 
and rehnquish it. He writes home : " You can hardly 
realize the pain I felt when I found I could not share 
the field campaign without thro^^ng away health and 
life. I love the regiment, and beheve their feeling 
toward me to be so cordial that I am very reluctant to 
sever the tie." * 

He was condoled, however, by the prospect of serv- 
ing his country's cause in a new position. He writes 
to his family : " The President of the United States 
promises me, through Senator Clark, a commission 
with full powers as chaplain in a hospital or stationary 
camp. The Surgeon-General gives the same assur- 
ance. But it is necessary that I should resign my 
present position before assuming the new. I go to the 

* The following is the surgeon's certificate and order: — 

" Hospital of 16 Mass. Vols., 
Warrenton June, Va., Nov. 16, 1862. 

"I do hereby certify that Rev, A, B. Fuller, Chaplam of the 16th 
Mass. Vols., has been under my care since his return from absence on 
sick leave, and it is my opinion that his state of health precludes all 
idea of his remaining in the field. I find that he has Chronic DiaiThooa, 
and that his disease is aggravated by exposure to cold, injudicious diet, 
or fatigue. 

" It is by my order that the said officer of this regiment remains be- 
hind in Alexandria or Washington till such time as competent surgeons 
pronounce him fit to return to his post. 

" C. C. Jewett, 
Surg. 16 Mass. Vols." 



292 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

camp at Falmouth to-morrow morning, in order to re- 
sign. I do this with much regret." 

The following is a published account of his leave- 
taking with his regiment : — 

" On Sunday, Dec. 7, the regiment was di'awn up in a 
hollow square, at the close of di-ess-parade, for the purpose 
of holding religious services and hearing the farewell address 
of their chaplain. The services were deeply interesting. 
Rev. Mi\ Fuller expressed his great regret in parting with 
the regiment, whose officers and soMiers he regarded, after 
so many hardsliips and perils shared together, as liis broth- 
ers. Notliing but the state of his health, which had suf- 
fered gi'eatly from exposure in the field, induced him to 
leave them. He should not cease his care for the soldiers, 
but according to his abihty should continue to minister to 
their wants, temporal and spuitual. If the convalescent 
camp at Alexandria were made a post-chaplaincy he should 
probably .be appointed there, and he sought the place be- 
cause there was most suffermg and most opportunity for 
usefulness. If it were not, he had nevertheless been as- 
sured by the proper authorities of a chaplaincy in a hos- 
pital, as soon as he resigned his position in the regiment, and 
in either place he would find abundant field for labor and 
usefulness. He closed with a fervent prayer for the blessing 
of Heaven upon our noble chief magistrate, our country, its 
brave, loyal army, and the gallant and heroic regiment with 
whom he had seen so much peril and exposure, and whose 
members would ever find in their chaplain a friend, wherever 
and whenever, in the future, the Hues of their Hves should 
meet." 

On the 9th of December he writes his last letter, in 
which he says : — 

" For nearly a year and a half I have been constantly 



SHADOWS. 293 

with my regiment, except when absent from sickness, and 
have learned to regard its noble officers and brave soldiers as 
brothers and its camp as a home, second only in affection to 
my own domestic household. I am here once more, not alas ! 
long to remain, for exposure to the Virginia siunmer's heat 
and winter's cold, together with privations and hardships 
necessarily incident to campaigns such as ours have been, 
these have done their work, and for years I can scarcely 
hope to be as well in the future as I have been in the past ; 
but I have no complaints to make or regrets to express ; 
what I have seen is worth all it has cost, and I thank God 
it has been my high privilege to be with our loyal and heroic 
army during its hours of trial and danger. If any regret 
were mine, it would be that I am not able to remain with 
my regiment longer ; but this is, doubtless, in God's provi- 
dence, all right, and I am grateful that in some hospital or 
stationary camp I am still able to labor on for the officers 
and soldiers of our army, for whom in hours of sickness, or 
when wounded and suffering, none of us can do too much. 
Meanwhile I am here, home again for a little while." 

On the 10th of December, his resignation was ac- 
cepted, and he received an honorable discharge.* 

• The following is the order: — 

"Head-Quarters Centre Grand Division. 
Camp near Potomac Creek, Va., 
" Special Orders, No. 26. December 10, 1862. 

"The following-named officers, having tendered their resignations, are 
honorably discharged from the military service of the United States, on 
surgeon's certificate of disability. 

" By command of Major-General Hooker, 

" Chaplain Arthur B. Fuller, 16 Mass. Vols 

"Joseph Dickenson, A. A. Gen'l.** 



CHAPTER VI 



FREDERICKSBURG. 




" Nothing in his life 
Became him like the leaving it ; he died 
As one that had been studied in his death." 

*' I must do something for my country ! " 

HE Union army had been replenished, the 
invading rebels driven back, and a new ad- 
vance was now made upon Richmond. The 
Peninsula route had proved the most unfa- 
vorable that could have been selected, not only by 
reason of the marshy and unhealthy ground to be 
traversed, but because it necessitated a division of the 
Union army. The advance up the Peninsula did not 
cover Washington, and, unless a force were kept about 
the city and in the region lying between it and Rich- 
mond, a very obvious and effective mode of defence 
would be left to the enemy, who would have an oppor- 
tunity to seize upon the Federal capital. If Rich- 
mond could thereby be taken, it would be a poor 
exchange in every point of view ; nor could it be sup- 
posed that the Federal army would continue to move 
against the Rebel stronghold when their own capital 
was assailed. The Rebels had means of transportation 
by which they could advance upon Washington almost 



FREDEEICKSBURG. 295 

before the movement was known, and much sooner 
than the Federal army could be transfeiTed from the 
Penmsula for its defence. This was proved in the 
sequel by Jackson's raids against the insufficient armies 
which were kept as a guard between Washington and 
Richmond. And the reflecting mind will be satisfied, 
that it would have been the height of imprudence to 
add to the great host of the Peninsula the small armies 
of Banks and McDowell and the few undisciplined 
forces detained about Washington. The result must 
have been the ruinous loss of the Federal capital, while 
it is by no means demonstrable that the further in- 
crease of the vast army upon the Peninsula would 
have changed its fortunes. History will not ascribe 
the failure of that campaign to lack of numbers or 
deficiency of courage in the troops, or want of ample 
munitions of war. 

A route was chosen for the new advance upon 
Richmond, via Fredericksburg, wliich would at least 
have the advantage of not leaving Washington un- 
covered. The campaign commenced under critical 
circumstances. The time of the nine-months volun- 
teers was wearing away, and unless some important 
blow were struck before their term had expired, the 
cost of them to the country would be thrown away, nor 
would they easily be persuaded to enlist again, while 
it would be still more difficult to obtain fresh recruits. 

The cry was, from every part of the loyal country, 
for an important victory. This would restore pubHc 
confidence, reduce the premium on gold, and lure 
forth silver change from its hoarding-places, while it 
gave to business a fresh impulse. 



296 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

This, too, would repress the disloyal element in 
the Free States, wliich Federal reverses had embold- 
ened to come forth from its hiding-places and take 
advantage of the absence of loyal voters in the vol- 
unteer armies, to make itself felt in the elections, 
while, though pretending loyalty, it sought popular 
pretexts against the government. 

To obtain this most needed victory, it was of the 
utmost importance to revive the enthusiasm and con- 
fidence of the army, which had been somewhat de- 
pressed by finding that the unflinching valor and 
endurance of the rank and file had not availed to 
win decisive success, or even to avoid disastrous 
reverses. 

Great, therefore, was the anxiety with which the 
nation regarded the new campaign. A decisive battle 
it was expected, must soon be fought, as it was not 
supposed that the Rebels would reth'e to Richmond 
without a sanguinary contest. But should the Union 
army prevail in the battle, it was believed that vic- 
tory would this time be so promptly followed up as 
to make sure of the capture of Richmond, and with 
this capture the war would be practically ended. 

In this state of public expectation, the army of the 
Potomac advanced from Aquia Creek till it reached the 
Rappahannock. It was determined to cross the river at 
the city of Fredericksburg, although this pui'pose was 
disguised by feints at other points. The design was 
rendered patent to the enemy by a delay of many 
days, caused by the failure to furnish the requisite 
pontoon-bridges. Summons to surrender and notice 
to remove women and children also preceded the 



FREDERICKSBUKG. 297 

attack for several days. Meanwhile the active foe 
had fortified heights at the distance of two or three 
miles in the rear of Fredericksburg, while they re- 
fused to surrender the city, and took measures to 
obstruct the crossing of the stream. 

The 11th day of December, 1862, was the day fixed 
for the passage of the Rappahannock. The pontoon- 
bridges had been conveyed to its banks, during the 
previous night, and one hundred and forty-three pieces 
of artillery had been so placed as to command the 
city. During the night rockets had been seen to rise 
within the lines of the enemy, and at -five o'clock in 
the morning, as the Federals began to construct three 
pontoon-bridges, two signal-guns were fired by the 
Rebels. 

At six o'clock, when the pontoon-bridges were half 
completed, a murderous fire from the enemy, under 
cover of the houses in Fredericksburg, was opened 
upon our infantry and upon the engineers engaged in 
constructing the pontoons, and the latter were driven 
from their work. 

Thus the enemy took advantage of General Bum- 
side's forbearance toward the city ; and such forbear- 
ance ceased to be a virtue. The order was now given 
for all the guns to be opened upon the city. The can- 
nonade was terrific, and the main body of the enemy's 
infantry was compelled to retire. Yet, upon a fresh 
attempt to construct the pontoons, it was found by the 
enemy's fire that they were still in sufficient force in 
the city to render the work impracticable. Again our 
artillery was opened upon the city, firing it in several 
places. Yet the enemy were not induced to evacu- 

13* 



298 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

ate. By this time it got to be noon. The Federals 
now placed every available battery in position, and, at 
a given signal, opened upon the city a terrific cannon- 
ade of one hundred and seventy-six guns. The con- 
centrated thunder of this artillery exceeded any pre- 
viously heard during the war. The shot and shell 
went crashing through the houses, firing them in many 
places. The smoke of the confiagration and of our 
own artillery almost hid the city from view. 

It was now three o'clock in the afternoon, and under 
the belief that the enemy had been forced to retire, the 
work upon the pontoons was resumed. But the fire of 
their sharpshooters from cellars, rifle-pits, fences, and 
every available shelter, was still so deadly, that the 
pontoons could not be laid. A new expedient must 
be adopted. The main body of the enemy had un- 
questionably retired, and though the sharpshooters 
were evidently numerous, they were of necessity 
somewhat scattered, and might not resist a bayonet- 
charge, could it be brought to bear upon them. But 
how could the Federals be got over the river ? The 
boats at hand would not transport much over a hun- 
dred, and during their transit they would furnish marks 
for more than a hundred rifles. To select a particular 
company for so hazardous a service might be invidious, 
and should they obey with unwilhngness or hesitation, 
their example might have a damaging influence. It 
was resolved to call for volunteers ; for thus not only 
would those engaged in the service be best adapted to 
it by the possession of superior bravery, but, in case of 
a fatal result, should all or the greater number of them 
be killed or wounded or taken prisoners, they could not 



FREDERICKSBURG. 299 

reproach their commander with requiring of them a 
desperate service. 

The call was made for volunteers. Would it be 
responded to ? If not, it would scarcely then be prac- 
ticable to resort to compulsion. The crossing of the 
river must be abandoned, while at the same time a 
reproach was put upon the courage of the army, and 
their failure in the crisis must have a demoralizing in- 
fluence. Nor was this the only evil to be anticipated. 
This was the first engagement of the army of the Po- 
tomac under the command of Burnside. How many 
there were at hand to say, " Ah ! this proves that he 
cannot command the enthusiasm of the army ! The 
change of generals has ruined the Federal cause. This 
results as we expected." How important to prove, in 
that hour, that the Federal army was composed of 
patriotic hearts, who understood and prized principles 
more than men, and were too devoted to their coun- 
try's cause, too enlarged and intelligent, to identify 
their cause with any general, even if he enjoyed the 
popularity, inexplicable on the score of success, which 
partisan clamor asserted on behalf of a past commander. 

Chaplain Fuller was the man to appreciate these 
considerations, and to feel the momentous issue of that 
hour through every pulse and fibre of his enthusiastic 
nature. And he was upon the spot, watching with 
anxious concern the events of the day. He had, in- 
deed, been discharged from all official obligations to 
the army; but not from the higher duty which had 
called him to his army mission. On leaving Washing- 
ton to resign his chaplaincy, he had said that he should 
return in a few days, unless he learned there was to 



300 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

be a battle. In tliat event he should be present at the 
conflict. To minister teethe wounded and d;ydng, on 
such an occasion, and to inspirit the soldiers by his 
sympathy and uncompulsory presence amid their dan- 
gers, required no army commission. He could do this 
as one of the self-commissioned, devoted lovers of God 
and man, who attended, like good angels, upon the army 
in its contests, receiving their compensation in no 
earthly coinage. 

The view which he took of his duty in the emer- 
gency which now presented itself, and the considera- 
tions which rapidly passed through his mind and in- 
duced him to make one of the volunteers, we are left 
to infer fi'om knowledge of his character and circum- 
stances ; for our inquiries in all quarters have not 
obtained information of any conversation which he had 
previous to the act. Indeed, it is scarcely probable 
that in his decision he made any oral statement of his 
motives. It was a time for action, and not words. Yet 
those who knew him, and we trust those who have 
read these pages, need no verbal exposition from the 
Chaplain to understand his motives. 

Should one in his position respond to this call for 
volunteers, it would indicate no common devotion. It 
was a duty which could not be required of him. And 
for one of his profession to consistently engage in this 
enterprise would prove his strong conviction that it 
was a work so holy, so acceptable to God, that even 
those set apart for sanctuary service might feel called 
to have a hand in it. His prowess was nothing ; yet 
it was not his unpractised right arm, but his heart, 
which he devoted to the service, and which would tell 



FREDERICKSBURG. 301 

on the result, not merely of that special enterprise nor 
of that battle only, but, by affording a powerful proof 
of love of country outweighing considerations of safety 
and hfe, would have the influence which a living ex- 
ample, and only a living example, can have. 

It is easy now to say that it was unnecessaiy for the 
Chaplain to volunteer ; there would have been enough 
without him. Such an excuse would have availed 
every volunteer. The chaplain did not belong to that 
large class who wait for others, and refrain from self- 
sacrifice in a good cause, under the pretext that there 
are enough others to sustain it. The first impulse of 
such a movement must be improved. Waiting for 
others quenches its spirit and makes it abortive. His 
immunity only rendered his volunteering more strik- 
ing, and more influential in the contagion of example. 

The sudden emergency in which the Chaplain de- 
cided in a moment how to act, was wholly unexpected 
by him. He was arrayed in the uniform of a staff" 
officer, which made him a special mark for the sharp- 
shooters. He had been cautioned, early in the day, 
against exposing himself, and reminded that as he had 
his discharge on his person, he would not be exchanged 
if taken prisoner, and if he were killed his family 
would not be entitled to a pension.* He had also 
valuables with him. And there was no time to place 
them in security or to change his costume. That the 
Chaplain loved home dearly, has fully appeared from 
evidence furnished in these pages. That, though he 
was a stranger to fear, he was careful not to throw 

* An army oflacer infonne us that he made these suggestions to the 
Chaplain. 



302 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

away his life, even in the cause he loved dearest, that 
of his country, his correspondence proves. We are 
led to the conviction that he deemed the issue of the 
hour, and the influence he might have upon it, of more 
importance than the life which he staked. He volun- 
teered, musket in hand, and crossed the river in 
safety ; but fell soon after entering Fredericksburg, 
pierced with two bullets, the one entering his chest 
through his arm upraised to discharge the musket, the 
other piercing his hip. A third bullet struck his breast 
laterally, tearing his coat and vest, but inflicting no 
wound. 

Sergeant Hill of the Sixteenth Massachusetts Regi- 
ment informs us that he was the Chaplam's guest at 
his last dinner, on the day of his death. " He asked 
aZZ," says the Sergeant, " to partake with him, — 
teamsters, sergeants, and myself. I told him I feared 
he had none too much for himself. ' O yes ! ' he said, 
he had plenty. And, whatever he had, he always 
wished to share with those around him." 

The following letter from Captain Dunn to the 
Chaplain's brother gives an account of the Chaplain's 
last moments ; — 

" lu answer to your inquiries, I would say, that, although I 
had previously intended, at the suggestion of a mutual friend, 
to make the acquaintance of Chaplain Fuller, I saw him for 
the jQrst time, in the streets of Fredericksburg, on the 11th 
December ultimo, at about half past three P. M., where I 
w^as in command of twenty-five men deployed as skirmishers. 
We came over in the boats, and were in advance of the 
others who had crossed. Pursuant to orders, we marched up 
the street leading from the river, till we came to the third 



FREDERICKSBURG. 803 

street traversing it, parallel with the river, and called Caro- 
lina Street, I think. We had been here but a few minutes 
when Chaplain Fuller accosted me with the usual military 
salute. He had a musket in liis hand ; and he said : ^ Cap- 
tain, I must do something for my country. What shall I 
do ? ' I replied, that there never was a better time than the 
present ; and he could take his place on my left. I thought 
he could render valuable aid, because he was perfectly cool 
and collected. Had he appeai-ed at' all excited, I should 
have rejected his services ; for coohiess is of the first impor- 
tance with skinnishers, and one excited man has an unfavor- 
able influence upon the others. I have seldom seen a person 
on the field so calm and mild in his demeanor, evidently not 
acting from impulse or martial rage. 

" His position was directly in front of a grocery store. He 
fell in five minutes after he took it, having fired once or 
twice. He was killed instantly, and did not move after 
he fell. I saw the flash of the rifle w^hich did the deed. 

" I think the Chaplain fell from the ball which entered the 
hip. He might not have been aware of the wound from the 
ball entering his arm, as sometimes soldiers are not con- 
scious of wounds in battle, or he may have been simidtane- 
ously hit by another rifle. We were in a very exposed posi- 
tion. Shortly before the Chaplain came up, one of General 
Burnside's aids accosted me, expressing surprise, and saying, 
* What are you doing here, Captain ? ' I replied that I had 
orders. He said that I must retire, if the rebels pressed us 
too hard. In about half an hour I had definite orders to 
retire, and accordingly fell back, leaving the Chaplain and 
another man dead, and also a wounded man, who was unwill- 
ing to be moved. It is not usual, under such pressing cir- 
cumstances, to attempt to remove the dead. In about au 
hour aftenvard, my regiment advanced in line with the 
Twentieth Massachusetts. They occupied the place where 



ZOi CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

Chaplain Fuller fell; and they suffered very severely, it 
being much exposed. The Chaplain's body we found had 
been robbed, and the wounded man bayoneted by the rebel 
Vandals, while the ground was left to them. 

" I think, in addition to Chaplain Fuller's desire to aid at a 
critical juncture in the affairs of his country, by the influence 
of liis example and his personal assistance, he may have 
been willing also to show that he had not resigned in the face 
of the enemy from any desire to shrink from danger. 
" I am, sir, yours, &c., 

"MONCENA DUNN, 
Capt. 19th Mass. Volunteers." 

The Chaplain's body was kindly cared for, as soon 
as the occupations of the battle permitted, and sent 
home to his bereaved family. Lieutenant John W. 
Hudson, of the Thirty-Fifth Massachusetts Regiment, 
writes that, from some boards obtained by him and 
Lieutenant Myrick, of Chelsea, a box was somew^hat 
hurriedly made by Charles Campbell, of Wayland, 
and John Tasker, of Lincoln, while exposed to a desul- 
tory shell-fire from hostile guns. 

"Into this, towards sunset, we solemnly lifted the Chap- 
lain's body from the rude door on which it lay, having cov- 
ered it with a white cloth. Wliile this was in progress, 
Mayor Fay, with a Chelsea lady, who recognized the features 
of the deceased, came up and offered to pay the expense of 
transporting the body across the river. Major Willard* 
went in person to procure the permission of our General for 
some of our men to pass with this rude coffin across the 
same bridge over which, two days later, we mournfully saw 
the mortal remains of the Major himself conveyed in another 
coffin, which ready hands had quickly improvised. 

* In command of the Thirty-fifth Massachusetts Regiment. 



FREDERICKSBURG. 305* 

" During our work, many from Massachusetts and New 
Hampshire regiments gathered round, to gaze upon the face 
of a widely known preacher, an esteemed pastor, a revered 
and loved friend. Many of them manifested the deepest 
interest in what we were doing, and lingered about the place 
till our undertaldng was accomplished. Some spoke of the 
Chaplain as 'their most edifying preacher,' others as 'a 
most valued adviser,' and others as ' a most faithful friend.* 
They offered to raise from their ranks the means of trans- 
portation." 

The same writer, in describing the position where 
the Chaplain fell, says : — 

'' There were a hundred hiding-places — in cellai-s, near 
windows, and behind the comers of houses, and under the 
cover of board-fences and trees and outbuildings — from 
which the deadly rifle might be expected to send its unerring 
bullet, striking its victim before the sound of the discharge 
can reach his ears ; and no valor of his can save him." 

In explanation of the Chaplain's self-sacrifice, he 
refers to " the need of an example, even to brave men, 
at such critical moments." 

Miss Helen L. Gilson, a niece of Major Fay, was 
the lady referred to, in the foregoing letter, as accom- 
panying him at Fredericksburg, where both were 
busied in ministering to the sick and wounded, under 
the auspices of the Sanitary Commission. She has 
sketched, in the following terms, some of the last days 
of Chaplain Fuller : — 

" For a long time had I heard of Arthur B. Fuller as a 
devoted chaplain ; and my interest had been awakened to see 
him ; but it was not till a few days before his death that I 



806 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

had the pleasure of an introduction. I then drew from my 
pocket a well-worn copy of the Army Melodies, of which he 
was one of the editors, and told him that I had carried it 
during the Peninsular Campaign, often administering the 
medicine of music to the sick and wounded ; and we were at 
once well acquainted. 

"The next Sabbath, I was one of a party from the 
Sanitary Commission, who accompanied him to Camp Con- 
valescent. We spent the forenoon in the tents, distribut- 
ing papers and books. Wherever he went, a crowd of 
Massachusetts boys gathered ; for they all knew and loved 
him. At two o'clock, the dnim sounded, and some five hun- 
dred convalescents assembled for religious services. After 
singing, in which all joined, he addressed them in that simple 
and earnest way which so wins the attention of the soldiers. 
Every eye was fastened on him, and each upturned face 
caught his glow of enthusiasm. 

" I wish I could remember all that fell from his Hps. I 
can only quote the following : ' Why, boys,' said he, ' you 
know what a thrill the cry of " Mail ! " sends through the 
camp ; and how eagerly we peruse the dear letters from 
home. Now the Bible is full of letters from home, breath- 
ing a love dearer than that of father, wife, or sister. I have 
come to read to you a letter from our heavenly home. It 
speaks the language of more than human affection. Its 
words are those of encouragement and cheer.' 

" The face of the speaker was lighted up with that interest 
which is more eloquent than speech ; and, in spite of the rain 
and chill atmosphere, not a man moved from his place until 
the service ended. 

" I saw no more of Chaplain Fuller, until we were called 
to identify his body in Fredericksburg. He lay, surrounded 
by rebel sharpshooters, who tad fallen on the same day with 
him. Mayor Fay immediately made arrangements to send 



FREDERICKSBURG. 307 

the body across the river to a place of safety, preparatory to 
sending it home. 

" Chaplain Fuller will long be mourned as one gifted with 
peculiar power, and singularly adapted to the position which 
he held in the army. He will ever be remembered as a 
faithful Chaplain, genial in intercourse, and an earnest man. 
G^d alone knows what precious seeds must be sown, that the 
full harvest may come. * Except a corn of wheat fall into 
the ground and die, it abideth alone ; but if it die, it bringeth 
forth much fruit.' More than most of us he believed in 
sacrifice, — in that consecrated giving, which includes what 
we are as well as what we have" 

Mayor Fay caused the body to be embalmed in 
Washington ; and it was sent home to the Chaplain's 
friends. On Thui'sday morning, just a week after his 
decease, his lifeless remains were borne back into that 
home mansion which had been often animated by his 
living and loving presence. 

'* But the heavy change, now thou art gone, 
Now thou art gone, and never must return ! " 




CHAPTER VII. 



OBSEQUIES. 



" Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, 

And every flower that sad embroidery wears : 
Bid amarantus all his beauty shed, 
And daffodillies fill their cup3 with tears, 
To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies." 




UB SEQUENT to the private ceremony at 
the residence of his brother, the pubHc fu- 
neral of Chaplain Fuller took place at the 
First Church on Chauncey Street in Boston 
on the 24th day of December, 1862.* 

" The church was crowded with the friends of the deceased, 
who wished some opportunity to express their sense of loss, 
their respect for his memory, and their estimation of his 
character and services. Governor Andrew and staff, Gen- 
eral Andrews and staff, Chief Justice Bigelow, and other 
prominent public men were present. The escort was per- 
formed by the Cadets. 

" The coffin w^as placed in front of the pulpit, and was pro- 
fusely covered with the most exquisite flowers. One by one 
the wreaths wefe placed upon the lid bj loving hands, as the 

* The funeral was under the general direction of Messrs. William A. 
Krueger and Thomas S. Williams. The pall-bearers were Messrs. Samuel 
Smith, C. J. F. Sherman, George P. Richardson, Jr., Henry S. Dalton, 
Samuel B. Krogman, and 0. T. Taylor. 



OBSEQUIES. 309 

best expression of the cherished memories of the past. The 
foUo^dng inscription was upon the plate : — 

Rev. Arthur Buckminster Fuller, 

Chaplain of the 16th Regiment of 

Massachusetts Volunteers ; 

Killed at the Battle of Fredericksburg, Va., 

11th December, 1862, 

Aged 40 years. 

' / must do something for my Country.* " * 

The following verses were sung from the Army 

Melodies : — 

Sleeping soft, the soldier lies 

Calmly, in his bed of blood ; 
Where, a living sacrifice. 
He his body gave to God. 

By salvation's Captain led, 

In the army of the Lord, 
Battle-fields a dying bed 

Soft and glorious afibrd ! 

There amid the rage of strife, 
Clash and roar of conflict grim, 

While to God he gives his life, 
In the storm, is calm to him. 

The first address was from Rev. Rollin H. Neale, 
who said : — 

" My principal difficulty in speaking on this occasion is in 
controlling my feelings within just bounds. I have seldom 
heard of a death which so deeply affected me. My first im- 
pression was a sense of personal bereavement. I could truly 
say, ' I am distressed for thee, my brother ! Very pleasant 
hast thou been unto me.' I would not be unmindful of other 
bereavements which have occurred" in our midst. 

* Christian Register. 



310 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

" Putnam and Lowell, Shurtleff and Phillips, Cabot and 
Willard, and other loved ones, are warm in public sympathy, 
and the hearts of friends and relatives are freshly bleeding 
over their graves. But I am sure no one has fallen in this 
war more tenderly loved, and whose death, in the circle of 
his acquaintance, has produced a profounder impression than 
that of the Chaplain of the Sixteenth Regiment. His pub- 
lished letters, so characteristic, frank, and full, have made 
him widely known. We have followed him from scene to 
scene, to Alexandria and Fortress Monroe, to the neighbor- 
hood of Suffolk and the terrible field of Fair Oaks, to Harri- 
son's Landing, and on board of transports, sometimes sleeping 
on the vesseFs deck and sometimes on the bare ground ; but 
always cheerful, always active, encouraging his ' boys,' as he 
called them, — ministering to the sick and the wounded, hav- 
ing a good word to say of everybody, and evil of none. We 
see him ever manly, dignified, uncompromising. He never 
conceals his sentiments. He condemns rebellion and slavery 
in the face of their most earnest and bitter advocates, and yet 
in such a tone of sincerity and kindness as to gain the respect 
of rebel officers and the confiding love of the poor dying 
Southern prisoner, whom he soothingly comforted, and at 
whose cot he knelt in fervent prayer. 

" An ingenuous, open-hearted, whole-souled man was our 
departed friend. There was nothing Uttle, mean, or selfish 
about him. He was ready to do a kind act or perform any 
service for a friend without stopping to think what might be 
the effect upon himself. Some blame him, and perhaps he 
was imprudent, in the worldly sense of the term, for taking a 
gun and going into the ranks. But it was just like him. 
When the battle was raging, and his men, his children, his 
pastoral charge, were called to face the danger, it ^ as not in 
his nature to sit idle in his tent ; and if he forgot his head- 
ache, and his weakened frame, and as some say his profes- 



OBSEQUIES. 311 

sional character, I should feel rebuked and ashamed, if, as 
his fiiend, I attempted to make an apology for him. No, it 
"was an act of generous emotion, of noble heroism, of self- 
sacrificing patriotism, which will endear liim to liis associates 
in the army, and place him high among the martyrs in this 
struggle. Sure I am that neither the soldiers to whom he 
ministered as chaplain, nor those churches in New England 
of which he had been the beloved pastor, will think the less 
of his religious character now that his blood has been poured 
out in his country's cause. 

"■ When settled in this city I became acquainted with him. 
Our friendship was intimate and unreserved. With his ear- 
nest, genial, and pre-eminently humane spirit, we forgot our 
theological differences, and ' wherein we were agreed walked 
by the same rule and minded the same thing.' Deeply do 
I sympathize with his relatives, his brothers, his bereaved 
wife, his orphan children. No public tribute to his memory, 
no official funeral solemnities, are necessary to exalt him in 
their estimation. They knew him at home, the sphere he 
loved the best, amid the thousand sweet and tender chari- 
ties of life. He loved the circle immediately around him, 
and cherished an affectionate remembrance of those who had 
previously been removed by death, — esteemed parents, a 
lamented brother, an honored sister. 

" The quiet rural spot at Mount Auburn which he has 
described and carefully laid out and adorned for ' our famUy ' 
now waits to receive all that was mortal of himself It is 
hallowed ground, fit emblem of the peaceful rest which his 
weary spirit has now entered. No more fatiguing marches. 
Strifes and fears and dying groans shall agitate his soul no 
more. 

' No rude alarms of angry foes, 
No cares to break the long repose, 
No midnight shade, no clouded sun, 
But sacred, high, eternal noon.' " 



312 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

Rev. E. O. Haven, D. D., was the next speaker. 
He said : — 

" We see before us to-day an extraordinary sight. IVIinis- 
ters of the Gospel of Christ of different denominations pay 
their tribute of honor and affection to a brother minister who 
has finished his course, — not as is most common for men of 
his profession, dying peacefully among his people, breath- 
ing upon them a benediction, and beaiing testimony to the 
fidehty of the Saviour in the closing hour of Hfe ; not, as is 
sometimes the case, expiring suddenly in the midst of official 
duty, and translated at once from the pulpit to the congrega- 
tion of the faultless and immortal, — but who died on the 
field of battle, clad in the soldier's garb, with deadly weapons 
in his hands, in the forefront of terrible strife. 

" Many are shocked at the thought of such a scene. Dis- 
tant lands will wonder when they hear the report. It will be 
quoted as an indication of a fearful passion for blood which 
has usurped the American mind. There are some, even at 
home, who will timidly inquire. Why is this waste of life ? 
Why must the ambassador of the Prince of Peace subject 
himself to the violence of war ? Has there not been a forget- 
fulness of the proprieties of official dignity ? Has there not 
been a misapprehension of the duties of a Christian minister ? 

" Could he whose mangled body now lies before you, from 
which the deadly bullet has expelled the noble Christian soul, 
rise again and speak out as he was wont to do in ringing 
words, they would not be apologetic, but words of exultation. 
Were it possible for him to be at once fallen in battle and 
yet ahve with us, I know that he would fill om- souls with his 
own holy enthusiasm. I know that he would make us under- 
stand and feel the magnitude of his thought and the love of 
his heart, when he offered to his country, in what he thought 
her bitterest trial, the sight of his eye and the strength of his 
arm, and above all the moral example of his character, won 



OBSEQUIES. 313 

by many years' devotion to the good of his fjpllow-men. He 
offered all this to his country, and he did right. It was an 
ovei-flowing love. He gave away his life for liberty to all men, 
instead of slavery for negroes, vassalage for the great majority 
of the whites, and a despotism — greatest curse of all — for a 
few. He offered his life to inspire the army with noble pur- 
pose, and if need be to inspire the nation. He knew that his 
life might be taken, and is not now surprised ; but there comes 
a voice from his spirit to us saying : Waste not your sympsr 
thies in inactive sorrow, but convert the strong tide of your 
emotion into vigorous thought and powerful action. ' Weep 
not for me, but weep for yourselves and your children,' 
or see to it that they are so protected as not to need your 
tears. 

" He was a brave man. He had shown that long before he 
crossed the perilous bridge and preceded the great army in 
their passage over the Rappahannock. His bravery was not 
rash physical courage. His was a cultivated mind and a full 
heart. Life was to him full of hopes, affections, and ambi- 
tions. He had the poet's imagination to paint the future, and 
the Christian's purpose to produce it. To him life was in- 
tensely valuable. The great teacher of modern philosophy 
has said : ' A little philosophy inclineth man's mind to athe- 
ism, but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds about 
to religion.' So a little thought maizes man a coward, but 
deepei' thought fills him with courage. Our friend was brave 
because he was a man of thought, of self-control, of obedience 
to God's law, and of faith. Such a man cannot be timid, for 
God is in him. He had long ago determined what to live 
for, — to advocate what he believed to be true, to benefit 
man, to imitate Christ, to honor God. That I believe he has 
tried to do. Tliat gave him the courage of an apostle. I am 
not speaking words of formal eulogy, but what the character 
of this good man deserves. 
U 



314 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

" He was a philanthropist. His habits of thought, his mode 
of expression, his life and his religion were pre-eminently 
practical. He saw the desolations of alcoholic drinks in this 
and other lands, and devoted his strength at once to promote 
temperance, and deserves to be ranked among the strongest 
advocates of total abstinence from intoxicating drinks. He 
was a friend of popular education, he was a great lover of 
children, and contributed much influence to make Sunday 
schools efficient. He advocated every department of prac- 
tical Christianity. Many of the benevolent associations of 
tliis city and State have been cheered in their anniversaries 
by his ready utterance and eloquent appeals. 

" When the nation was suddenly shocked by the eruption 
of the pent-up volcano of treason and rebellion, when that 
cruel effort to strike down constitutional hberty, long foreseen 
by sagacious minds, burst upon the people, then such a sym- 
pathetic and patriotic heart as his could not but be thrilled 
with emotion. His was not a nature to suppress feeling, or 
to consume it upon himself. He sought opportunity to speak 
and to act. He was soon in the army as an ambassador of 
Christ, to bless the soldier and strengthen him for his work. 
His letters from the camp and field have been read by thou- 
sands. He labored faithfully for his country. And when, 
in the providence of God, a crisis came, — an emergency for 
which only the noblest souls are fitted, — he sprang to the 
post of hottest danger. The army saw, the nation sees, all 
the world shall know, how a Christian like him can give to 
his country and to right all that he has, even his life. God 
accepted his offering, as he had that of many martyrs. The 
family name, highly honored before, has received fresh lustre, 
and when the historian comes to gather up the jewels that 
this terrible convulsion has brought to sight, among the names 
that shall shine with pei'petual light shall be that of Arthur 
B. FuUer." 



OBSEQUIES. 315 

Next in order was the following tribute from the 
Rev. E. H. Sears: — 

" I have no right to speak of my brother from any such 
intimate relations as those must have had who met him often 
in the sphere of liis daily duties. I saw him last summer 
when he came into my neighborhood with his health shat- 
tered, his constitution perhaps broken, in the hardships of the 
Peninsular campaign. Those who saw him then must have 
known, that with him it meant something to be chaplain of a 
regiment. There, imder the kind ministrations of wife and 
brother and friends, and breathing the pure country air, he 
tried to drive out of his system the poison he had breathed 
into it m the swamps of the Chickahominy. But even when 
prostrate on his sick-bed, his zeal for the cause to which he 
had devoted himself burned in him Hke a flame of fire, and 
his chief thought was to get back to his regiment, to be 
with ' his boys,' as he called them, to share their dangers, to 
minister to their suffering, to nurse the sick and pray with 
the dying. He returned before half recovered ; and when we 
saw him go away with pale face and faltering steps, we trem- 
bled for his life, for we thought he might end it ui the hard- 
ships of the camp or in the hospital. We did not expect to 
see him brought home from the carnage of the battle-field. 
But he took this riew of his duties : ' I will not urge others 
to go,' said he, 'where I am not ready to go myself I will 
not preach what I am not willing to practise. I will not ask 
God's protection of others in dangers which I will not share.' 
And so on the eve of that most terrible battle of all, when he 
must have known how fierce the conflict wjis to be, when he 
must have known that to thousands before nightfall, *a 
heavier sleep was coming fjust, than seals the living eye,' he 
placed himself in the fore pail of the danger, and soon fell 
by two mortal wounds. And I caimot but recognize hero 
the tender adaptations of the Divine mercy as a consolation 



816 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

to his friends. If he must fall, we could not wish it other- 
wise. He was spared the long agonies which others have 
endured, spared from slow death in the hospital. He passed 
with one step through the opening gate, and left the tumult and 
the agony behind ; one moment in the battle-storm, the next 
moment with loved ones gone before in the eternal calm ! 
The martyr's crown, without the martyr's protracted suffer- 
ing ! He died, in the words of Job, ' when his glory w^as 
fresh with him, and his bow gathered strength in his hand.' 

" So, too, in the time of his death, if he was to fall, there 
is much consolation. It may be that for all our sins as a 
nation — which have been very great — the cause for which 
our brother has given his Hfe is to fail. Perhaps it may go 
down, for a time at least, in dai-kness and blood. If so. who 
of us would not rather lie as he does in his peaceful coffin ? 
It is better to die for one's country, than to live on with no 
country to die for. If we are to lose all we have held most 
sacred and dear, I would say more truthfully a thousand 
times than Hector said of the impending ruin of his beloved 

Troy, 

* Let me lie cold before that dreadful day, 
Pressed with a load of monumental clay.' 

But if, as we do believe, our country is to rise tlirough this 
agony and bloody sweat to a new and a glorified existence, 
then, again, how could Hfe be given with such large returns ? 
The beauty of our Israel slain in its high places for this great 
redemption, is raised up and separated to the special sphere 
of the Divine mercy. 

" There is one lesson which comes to us now, and which 
our brother's lips would speak, I doubt not, could they break 
their silence in this solemn hour : there are evils more to be 
feared than death ; and there is something better than life, 
and for which life may be joyfully given away. Do not 
doubt that the good will be achieved ; for God never wastes 
the blood of his martyrs." 



OBSEQUIES. 317 

The closing address was from the Rev. James Free- 
man Clarke : — 

" I first knew Arthur Buckminster Fuller as a little boy. 
Being a distant relative, I was in the habit of visiting his 
father's family while a student at Cambridge. They lived at 
that time in the old Dana House, on the bend of the road 
from Boston. In the large, old-fashioned parlor, the family 
sat together in the evening, Mr. Timothy Fuller sitting by 
one corner of the open fire, with his stand, holding his papers 
and a lamp, at work preparing for his law duties of the next 
day, but occasionally taking part in the conversation, usually, 
as I remember, in moderating what he thought some too en- 
thusiastic statement of his daughter Margaret. She sat talk- 
ing with her friends as only she could talk, and the younger 
children studied their lessons or played together ; and among 
them I well remember the bright eyes and clear, open fea- 
tures of Arthur. Near by sat the mother at her work, serene, 
gentle, kind, a comfort and joy to all. 

" Ailhur graduated at Harvard in the class of 1843, which 
class contained, among other honored names, that of the pres- 
ent President of the College. He graduated from the Cam- 
bridge Divinity School in the class of 1847. Among his 
classmates at the Divinity School, one is a minister of this 
city, and another is the Colonel of the First Regiment of 
Carolina Volunteers at Port Royal. Mr. Fuller went to the 
West, and settled in Northern Illinois as teacher and mission- 
ary. I well remember his labor and his zeal in both depart- 
ments, for I met him on his field of work on the Rock River, 
and knew how he put his lieart into it as into all that he did. 
And, afterward, when he returned to New England, and was 
settled over various parishes, I saw liim, always characterized 
by the same activity and devotion. He was an earnest 
Christian minister, believing in the great doctrine of redeem- 



318 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

ing love through Christ, and ready to take part with every 
Christian brother who was working for the same end. So 
it happened, that he often went over the boundary line of 
sect, and found himself side by side in brotherly labors in 
various religious and philanthropic works with those bearing 
other denominational names. They did not like him less for 
being a decided Unitarian, finding in him more points in 
wliich they could agTce than those in which they were 
obliged to differ. And, therefore, we find that they are here 
to-day to honor their friend as a brother in many Christian 
labors, following, in his own way, the same Master. 

" So have the rapid years passed by, until this war broke 
out, and Arthur felt it his duty to go as a chaplain. Of his 
services there I am not the one to speak, but I know that he 
must have been active and kind and useful to the soldiers, 
for it was his nature always to be active, kind, and useful. 

" Arthur Fuller was, like most of us, a lover of peace, but he 
saw, as we have had to see, that sometimes true peace can only 
come through war. In this last struggle at Fredericksburg, 
he took a soldier's weapon, and went on with the little forlorn 
hope who were leading the advance through the streets. 
He had not been much in battle before, but more among the 
sick in the hospitals. Perhaps he thought it right to show 
the soldiers that in an hour of emergency he was ready to 
stand by their side. So he went, with a courage and deva 
tion which all must admire, and fell, adding his blood also to 
all the precious blood which has been shed as an atonement 
for the sins of the nation. May that blood not be shed in 
vain. May it be accepted by God as a costly sacrifice, and 
may we as a people, when our necessary trials and punish- 
ments are sufficiently endured, become that righteous and 
happy nation God meant us to be ; setting an example to 
mankind of a Christian republic in which there is no master 
and no slave, no tyrant and no victim, — not a mere rabble 



OBSEQUIES. 819 

scrambling for gain, but brothers co-operating in building up 
a grand commonwealth of true liberty, justice, and humanity- 
Let our friends go or stay, let us live or die, — 

' So we wake to the higher aims 
Of a land that has lost for a little her love of gold, 
And love of a peace that was full of wrongs and shames, 
Horrible, hateful, monstrous, — not to be told. 
And hail once more the banner of battle unrolled ! 
Though many an eye shall darken, and many shall weep, — 
Yet many a darkness into light shall leap.' 

" Our brother has fallen in the midst of active usefulness, in 
a life which seemed only half lived. He has gone to join the 
many dear-beloved friends who have preceded him, — the 
upright, industrious father, the saintly, tender mother, the 
noble child of genius, Margaret, his brother Eugene, his 
sister Ellen. The few of the family who remain will miss 
his active, useful friendship and brotherly love. We shall 
all miss him from among our thinned ranks. But if this 
teaches us again how ' in the midst of life we are in death,* 
it teaches us, too, that in the midst of death we are in life. 
To die thus, full of devotion to a noble cause, is not to die, — 
it is to live. It is rising into a higher life. It is passing up 
into the company of the true and noble, of the brave and 
generous, — it is going to join the heroes and martyrs of all 
ages, of all lands, who have not counted life dear when given 
for a good cause. Such devoted offerings by the young and 
brave, surrendering up their lives, raise us all above the fear 
of death. What matters it when we die, so that we live 

nobly ? — 

* They are the dead, the buried, 

They who do still survive, 
In sin and sense interred, — 
The dead ! — they are alive ! ' 

" Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, friends ! You who are 
in grief to-day, mourning the dear sons, the noble husbands 
and brothers, who have fallen on all these bloody fields, do 



820 CIL\PLAIN FULLER. 

you not also rejoice as you mourn ? Do you not also thank 
God for the great opportunity he has given you to render up 
in his service these precious lambs, these costly offerings? 
Ah ! I know that you feel thus. I have seen it in your 
serene look of inward joy, which tells me you are talking 
with your angels. They have not wholly left you. They 
go, but they return. To each of these noble brothers of ours 
we look and speak from the depths of our truest instincts and 

insight. 

' So we may lift from out the dust 
A voice as unto him that hears, 
A cry above the conquered years, 
To one that with us works, and trust. 

' Known and unknown, human, divine ! 
Sweet human hand, and lips, and eye, 
Dear heavenly friend that cannot die. 
Mine, mine forever, ever mine ! 

' So all is well, though faith and form 
Be sundered in the night of fear. — 
Well roars the storm to those who hear 
A deeper voice across the storm' " 

The addresses were followed by the singing of a 
hymn written for the occasion, by Mrs. J. H. Hana- 

ford. 

" Softly sing the requiem holy 

O'er this still, most precious clay, 
Loving hearts are bending lowly 
'Neath the chastening rod', to-day. 

" Father ! in thy care we leave him 

Whom our hearts have loved so well. 
Nevermore earth's sin shall grieve him, 
Now with thee his soul shall dwell. 

*' There with loved ones gone before him, 
He will wait our steps to greet ; 
With the sainted one who bore him, 
Sins the anirel-anthem sweet. 



OBSEQUIES. 321 

" Grieve we not in hopeless sorrow, 

O'er our honored hero slain, 
Soon shall dawn a brighter morrow, 
And we all shall meet again." 

" The hearse which bore his remains to their last resting- 
place in Mount Auburn was draped vnth the national colors 
and trimmed with rosettes of black and white, and drawn by 
four horses wearing heavy black plumes. A large number 
of mourners followed the remains to the grave, and dropped 
their tears over the sepulchre of this I'allen patriot and phi- 
lanthropist." * 

* Boston Herald. 



14* 




CHAPTER VIII. 



APPRECIATION. 



"Ense petit placidam sub libertate quietem." 




HE libation of the Chaplain's life has been, 
we trust, accepted, like the sacrifice of Abel, 
and he has taken his place under the altar 
with the souls of those slain for the word of 
God. His devotion touched the hearts of his country- 
men ; nor was it regarded as out of keeping with the 
sacred office he had so recently laid temporarily aside, 
nor as a close unmeet for a life of religious and philan- 
thropic labors. Although it is not a common event for 
a chaplain to enter the lists of the combatants, yet loyal 
hearts felt that the exigency of a holy cause rendered 
the act noble, appropriate, and heroical. 

One of the first expressions in reference to it came 
from the heart of the chief magistrate of Massachu- 
setts, whose patriotic and zealous discharge of his high 
duties in this our national crisis will win for his name 
a proud place on the page of history. We insert 
the letter : — 

"COMMONWEALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS. 

" ExECTTTivE Department, Boston, Dec. 15, 1862. 

"Richard F. Fuller, Esq., Court Street, Boston. 

" My dear Sir : I observe, with grief at the loss sustained 

by his friends and by the Eervice, but with admiration for his 



APPRECIATION. 323 

heroic enthusiasm, the death of your brother, the Rev. Arthur 
B. Fuller, Chaplain of the Sixteenth Massachusetts Regiment, 
while fighting in the ranks of the Nineteenth Massachusetts 
as a volunteer, in the battle of Fredericksburg. 

" My long and intimate acquaintance with him and all your 
family render this instance of bravery and of affliction one 
of unusual interest, as it really is of unuBual pathos. 

" His conduct was worthy his State and his blood. It will 
be forever remembered. Nor was it too soon for a good man 
to die, falling as he did in splendid devotion to a sublime idea 
of duty, adventuring his life beyond the necessities of his 
position or the occasion of his office, but not beyond the dic- 
tates of an ardent nature, nor, in my judgment, beyond the 
highest and best idea of the example and decorum of the 
occasion. 

" How many friends at home, how many soldiers in the 
field, will feel kindled, consoled, and encouraged by this ex- 
cept ionjd and more conspicuous act of unselfish and spontane- 
ous patnotism. 

" I am faithfully, your friend and servant, 

•" JOHN A. ANDREW." 

Such, too, was the sentiment of the army. We 
quote from a sermon by Rev. Edward A. Walker, re- 
cently chaplain of the 1st Conn. Vol. H. Artillery. 

" I have just heard of the death of Chaplain Fuller of the 
Sixteenth Massachusetts Volunteers, one of the most earnest 
and faithful officers in the service. I visited him once at 
Fortress Monroe, and saw the results of his labors in his own 
regiment, and met him afterward repeatedly in circumstances 
where his ability and energy were abundantly exJiibited. 
After the battle of Malvern Hill, when our forces removed 
to Harrison's Landing, and when some five thousand wound- 
ed and disabled men were gathered at the old Hairison estate, 



824 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

Chaplain Fuller rendered himself eminently serviceable, 
ministering both to the spiritual and physical wants of the 
sufferers. 

" The miserable condition of these men can scarcely be 
described. After a week of fighting and marching, the heat 
having been oppressive and the air thick with penetrating 
dust, they arrived by night in a drenching rain at the Harri- 
son estate. The overseer had been directed, in the event of 
the coming of the Federal troops, to destroy whatever he could 
not secrete ; but our coming was so sudden as to prevent this. 
The house was soon filled from cellar to garret by those 
whose wounds were not so serious as to impede their locomo- 
tion. Then those wounded in the legs, or who had suffered 
much from loss of blood, came feebly up and filled all places 
about the dwelling that were left, some crawling under the 
bushes in the garden, others lying by the fences, and others 
still sinking directly doAvn into the mud, glad of the sight of a 
house and shelter, and of the hope of medical attendance. 
Within, the floor was so occupied with men, that all passage 
was for a time impossible. The carpets were covered with 
mud and stains of blood, while the rich mirrors, furniture, 
and paintings presented a painful contrast of domestic luxury 
with all the horrors of war. 

" Amid these scenes of suffering. Chaplain Fuller labored 
with untiring energy, now unobtrusively assisting the sur- 
geons in their more arduous labors, now bringing food and 
drink to those who were unable to help themselves, now 
speaking words of comfort and religious consolation to the 
disheartened, himself at all times cheerful, patient, and help- 
ful. 

" With regard to the circumstances of his death, although 
he was shot with musket in hand while tak;jig part in the 
attack on Fredericksburg, I cannot believe that he was out 
of his proper place, or acting otherwise than with a conscien- 



APrRECIATIOX. 325 

tiou3 regard for his duty toward his men. He doubtless felt 
that his example would inspire them with greater heroism, 
and therefore willingly, sacrificed his life at one of the most 
critical moments of the war. 

" I trust that the record of services so valuable may be 
preserved. It may well be placed side by side with that of 
his distinguished sister." 

The voice of the press was of a similar tenor. 
Says one : * -^ 

" He volunteered in the hazardous task of crossing the 
river, and gave his life as the price of his zeal and patriotism. 
As chaplain of the Massachusetts Sixteenth, Mr. Fuller has 
been unwearied in his labors for the material as w^ell as 
spiritual good of the men, and has exercised over them a 
remarkable influence. No hardships appalled him, and he 
always sustained others by his own unflinching courage 
and his devotion to the great cause he had given himself 
to serve." 

Another,! among its frequent allusions to the sub- 
ject, says : — 

" He was an active, energetic, devoted soldier of the Cross, 
who did his best to awaken a true religious sentiment in camp, 
who visited the hospitals, who was an honest almoner of 
bounties intrusted to him, and who was not only ready to 
chronicle the heroism of others, but who took his place in the 
ranks. 

" Through his death the Union cause has met with no 
common loss ; for few chaplains in the army have been so 
active, energetic, and devoted to the interests of their charge, 
or more fully inspired by a patriotic love of country." 

* New York Tribune. t The Boston Journal. 



326 ' CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

Another,* under the head of " The Glorious Death 
of Chaplain Fuller," says: — 

" Ever a lover of liberty and the advocate of freedom to 
all the human race, of whatever creed or complexion, he has 
manifested his devotion to his principles by his deeds in the 
moment of personal peril. 

" He fully appreciated the extent and purposes of the 
rebelUon, and the sacrifices needed to put it down, and was 
willing to labor and suffer with others in the great work. 

" His death was feelingly alluded to by the pastors of sev- 
eral of the churches in this vicinity yesterday." 

And, in another connection : — 

" Rev. Mr. Fuller had his own ideas of the duties of a chap- 
lain in this war. He had previously been a peace man, and 
he never relinquished his love of peace. But he felt, unless 
all government is to be at the mercy of traitors, force must 
be laAvful for its defence against the wicked and unprovoked 
rebellion, — nay, more than lawful, an imperative obHgation. 
It was from this conviction that he accepted the place of 
chaplain, beUeving an important part of his duty to be to stim- 
ulate the men to a brave and noble bearing as Christian sol- 
diers in the field. He thought a minister should not be like 
a guide-board, pointing the way it does not go itself. He 
often said he would not urge the men, or rather ' his boys,' as 
he styled them, to go where he would not go himself It was 
on this principle that he went forward mth his regiment, 
deployed in the van as skinnishers, last summer, before Rich- 
mond. 

" He was suffering under a violent attack of headache ; 
but some of the men, as they passed his tent, remarked they 
wished they had a headache. This determined him to go 
forward. He was made a mark for the enemy's sharpshooters, 

* The Boston Traveller. 



APrRECIATION. 827 

and narrowly escaped two bullets which struck trees very 
near him. Tliis occurrence gave him a strong hold upon the 
soldiers, who delighted to hear the admonitions of one wlio 
did not flinch from the dangers he encouraged them to en- 
counter." 

A correspondent in the same paper writes, in refer- 
ence to the Chaplain : — 

" Could hero ever liave a nobler sentiment engraven on 
his tombstone than that which, living, he thus said, and, dy- 
ing, acted: 'Better still give up our heart's blood 

IN BRAVE battle THAN GIVE UP OUR PRINCIPLES IN COW- 
ARDLY CO^n'ROMISE ! ' 

" Let these heroic words be cut in enduring letters on his 
monument, — let them be rendered into immortal actions in 
the lives of his friends." 

A Western paper* says, in reference to the Chap- 
lain's funeral : — 

" It was attended by a great multitude, among whom were 
to be found the chief official dignitaries of the St^ite and of 
the city. And they all honored themselves in thus doing the 
last offices for the noble dead. For, the devoted servant of 
his God, he had, as the ardent friend of the soldiers of his 
regiment, shared their sorrows and suffi^rings tlirougliout the 
sad Peninsular campaign ; and in the late passage of the Rap- 
pahannock he volunteered to be among the first to enter the 
boats and receive the fire of the shai-pshooters of the enemy. 
And here it was he fell. 

" A man of eloquence, of high culture, of sincere piety, of 
ardent patriotism, of firm and true courage, he was ever to 
be found in the place whore duty cjdlcd, no matter what the 

* The Northwestern. 



d-5 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

personal sacrifice, no matter what the danger. In peace and 
in war he fbnght the good fight as a Christian and a hero." 

The tone of the religious press was of like import. 
Says one : * — 

" He died a glorious death of devotion to his countr}^, and 
cheerful self-sacrifice to save its life and liberty. It is not 
an unfit close to an earnest and warm-hearted Christian min- 
istry. 

" From extensive correspondence, I know that Liberal 
Christianity never had a more valuable "Western missionary, 
and perhaps this is not saying enough,. — that, by teaching 
and preaching through a ^vide section, he sowed precious 
seed which cannot perish, doing as much work as any two 
men, — unquestionably going beyond his physical strength, 
which was never great, — and leaving through Central Illinois 
memories which tirfie cannot efface. It was' our notorious 
misappropriation of men which sanctioned the removal of this 
rarely adapted missionary from those who loved, appreciated, 
and in some cases idolized him." 

And again a correspondent in the same paper 
■writes : — 

"I attended, at Chauncy Place Church, the services of 
music, reading, prayer, and addresses, which united the 
voices of three denominations of Christian speakers over the 
lifeless form of our Brother Fuller ; not our ' late brother,' 
for he is more our brother now than ever. All seemed to 
feel that he had done nobly. I feel that he did wisely, and 
for him most wisely, in acting promptly, as he did, upon the 
inspiration of the hour. His case seems to me that of the 
Magdalen, when she broke the alabaster box of spikenard, 

* The Christian Inquirer. 



APPRECIATION. 329 

and would have poured out her very life, on the feet of Jesus. 
Observers, prudent and economical, rebuked her ; but the 
Master, of a diviner wisdom than theirs, said, defending the 
act, • Trouble her not ; she hath wrought a good work ; she 
hath done what she could ; and wherever the Gospel shall 
be preached in all the world, there shall this deed of heart- 
sacrifice go, as a memorial of her.' So will it be in this case. 
Did the world ever need more than now, — when has our 
country needed so much as now, — the instant daring of fear- 
less self-surrender ? 

" It is Ruskin's ' lamp of sacrifice ' that Brother Fuller 
kindled, at such cost to himself, on the south ])ank of the 
Rappahannock. Such a soul is a lamj) snatched away all too 
soon for us, and set in the firmament of heaven. W"e that 
loved him and valued him even more for liis heart than for 
his head, preferred to keep liis beacon-light on our own rocky 
shores ; but God knew better, and took him away. • 

" I delight, and shall delight, to think of the last day of his 
earthly life as a splendid exhibition of that impulsive and 
lofty energy which, put forth for God and liberty and duty, 
is justly adored by the leading nations of Christendoixi." 

Another says of him : * — 

" His love of country required no artificial stimulant, for 
in his warm heart was the clear flame of patriotism ever 
burning brightly, communicating its glow and warmth to all 
with whom he had to do. 

" Faithful in the discharge of his duties as a Christian 
minister at home, he was faithful to his highest concej)tions 
of duty to his regiment. He was a friend to those who 
looked for friendly counsel, he was a brother to tliose who 
needed a brother's sympathy, and in hours of weakness and 
suffering, the tenderness of liis heart, and the scli-forgetful- 

• The Christian Register. 



330 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

ness of his spirit, rendered his service to those under his 
charge a grateful alleviation of their loneliness and pain. As 
a Christian minister, his record is upon the purer tablets 
above, and he will live in the memories of those with whom 
he has been associated as pastor, preacher, and friend. His 
consecration to a glorious service is now renewed in another 
world." 

And the same paper thus refers to his funeral : — 

" It was a most impressive thought, that he who but a few 
months ago had spoken so earnestly in the morning confer- 
ence meetings of Anniversary week, from the very spot upon 
which his body then rested, was lying there silent and cold 
in the embrace of death. However moving his appeals had 
been when living, there was a greater eloquence in his 
marble lips and brow, which told of self-sacrifice, of suffer- 
ing in the holy cause." 

A correspondent in another * writes : — 

" Chaplain Fuller spent several days with me at this hos- 
pital and the parole camp just before he joined his regiment, 
and went into the battle of Fredericksburg, where he fell. 
I became very much attached to him, and never have I met 
a chaplain in the United States army that in my opinion was 
better adapted to the army worh. His heart and soul were 
in it. He spoke plainly, and with great kindness and power 
to the soldier. All heard with interest, and many with profit. 
Many soldiers at Camp Parole wept like children as he 
spoke to them of home and loved ones, and as he pointed 
them to Jesus, the soldiers' friend, and instructed them to 
copy his noble example, and seek the favor of Gk)d. He was 
the right man in the right place. He remarked to me on 
Sabbath morning, as we were on our Avay from this city to 

* Chaplain Henry C. Hcurie-;, in Zioa's Ilerai'l. 



APPRECIATION. 831 

the Parole Camp, 'We all have to turn itinerants in the 
araiy, and preach Methodist doctrines.' But he has gone. 
Side by side he lay with many of the noble and brave on 
tliat fatal day. May God bless the dear ones of his house 
hold he loved so well." 

AYe quote from still another : * — 

" From merely a limited acquaintance with him, we were 
led to admire his intense patriotism, his self-devotion, and his 
noble, catholic spirit. The patriot-martyr has fallen. An- 
other precious, cherished life has been laid cheerfully down 
for the redemption of our country from the barbarism of slav- 
eiy. Rest, noble hero, with the patriot dead ! Green may 
be the turf above thy moi-tal form, yet greener and fresher, 
yea, perennial, shall be thy memory in the liearts of thy sur- 
viving friends and thy grateful countrymen ! 

" "WTiile our country shall have a name and place among 
the nations of the earth, so long will the heroic life and more 
than heroic death of Arthur B. Fuller, be remembered and 
pointed to as worthy of admiration and imitation." 

Nor did his fellow-laborers in the temperance cause 
forget him. The Massachusetts Temperance Alliance 

« Resolved, That in the death of the Rev. A. B. Fuller, 
Chaplain of the Massachusetts Sixteenth Regiment, the 
Massachusetts State Temperance Alliance has lost a faith- 
ful member, wlio, by his wise counsels and his earnest, 
able, and eloquent advocacy of tlie ciiusc of temiierance for 
many years, has contributed greatly to its success, and has 
won the admiration and shall have the affectionate remem- 
brance of this Alliance." 

We must not omit the following testimony of Rev. 
John Pierpont, written in tlie Cliaplaiirs lifetime : — 

• Herald of Gospel Liberty. 



332 ■ CHAPLADs FULLER. 

" I know, and for about twenty years have known, Rev 
Arthur B. Fuller as a preacher of the glorious Gospel of the 
blessed God, — a preacher 'sans peur et sans reproche,' — ■ 
without the fear of man or reproach from man. Nor, in my 
humble opinion, is he half so much afraid of the Devil as the 
Devil is of him." 

The Chaplain's widow was not entitled to a pension, 
as he had been discharged, and had not yet received 
a new appointment. On her petition to Congress, a 
special law providing her a }Xinsion very promptly 
passed both Houses without opposition. Hon. Charles 
Sumner presented the petition in the Senate, remark- 
ing, that 

" From the 1st day of August, 1861, Arthur B. Fuller had 
been a duly commissioned chaplain in the Sixteenth Massa- 
chusetts Regiment of Volunteers, and had followed its flag 
faithfully, patriotically, religiously, through aU the perils of 
the Penmsula, and wherever else it had been borne." 

The petition having been referred to the Committee 
on Pensions, they reported, 

" That it appears that Arthur B. Fuller was the chaplain 
of the Sixteenth Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers ; 
that liis health was much impaired l)y the hardships and 
exposures of the Peninsular campaign ; that after repeated 
efforts to renew his labors in the camp of his regiment, which 
were foiled by his sickness returning upon every such attempt, 
it was finally determined, by the advice of army surgeons, that 
his malady was such that he could not bear exposure in the 
field. He was accordingly honorably discharged, on surgeon's 
certificate of disability, on the 10th da}^ of December, 1862. 
On the 11th day of December, on the call for voluuteers to 
cross the Rappahannock at the battle of Fredericksburg, he 



APPHr.riATiON. 333 

volunteered, and was killed in the sei^vice soon after entering 
Fredericksburg. 

" The committee think that, though Chaplain Fuller was 
technically out of the service of the United States, still he 
was really in the service of his country and in the line of 
duty while bravely leading on the soldiers., and dying on the 
field of battle. They therefore think the petitioner entitled 
to the relief for which she prays, and accordingly report a 
bill." 

The proceedings of the same Congress in reference 
to the Conscription bill illustrate the view entertained 
by the nation of the holy cause of suppressing re- 
bellion and the propriety of clergymen bearing arms in 
this war. Senator Sumner moved an amendment to 
the bill, exempting clergymen from military conscrip- 
tion. In support of his amendment he said : — 

" In former days bishops have worn coats of mail and led 
embattled forces; and there are many instances where the 
chaplain has assumed all the duties of the soldier. At the 
famous battle of Fontenoy, there was a chaplain in the Brit- 
ish army, with a name subsequently historic, who, by his 
military services, acquired the title of ' the fighting cliiiplain 
of Fontenoy.' This was the famous Edinburgh professor, 
Adam Ferguson, author of the History of Ancient Rome. 
And only a few days ago, I presented a petition for a pen- 
sion from the widow of Rev. Arthur B. Fuller, chaplain, who 
fell fighting at Fredericksburg. But these instances are ex- 
ceptional. Legislation cannot be founded on exceptions." 

" Mr. McDouGALL. I have as mucli regard for the min- 
isters of the Gospel as any gentlwnan on this fioor ; but I 
think there is no reason why they should be exempted more 
than any one of those who profess to believe in the doctnnes 
they teach. 



334 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

" The men in the days of the Revolution who filled the 
pulpit not only called the men of the young nation to arms, 
but they led them to the field; and a man who has faith 
enough to bear the banner of the Christian faith is fit to be a 
soldier in any war supported by just principles, any war in 
the maintenance of a righteous cause. There is not a true 
believer in the great principles of democracy, as taught by 
Him who first bore the cross, who is not willing to fight for 
the maintenance of the great right of a people to maintain 
themselves in the forms of government. I will ask the 
Senator from Massachusetts to modify his proposition so 
as not to include the Methodist clergy, because they are 
a fighting clergy." 

" ]\Ir. Fes SEND EN. I have but one -word to say. I shall 
vote against the exemption, for the simple reason that T tliink 
it will be an imputation upon the clergymen of my section of 
the country which they would resent." 

The amendment \vas rejected, and the bill as it 
passed included the clergy. 



CHAPTER IX. 

TRIBUTES IN VERSE. 

"Begin, then, sisters of the sacred well 
That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring, — 
Begin, and somewhat louder sweep the string I " 

FUNERAL OF CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

UPON the church altar what form lieth low, 
The flag of his country wrapped round him ? 
The seal as of peace sleeps on his broad brow, 

In battle though Azrael found him ! 
Ah ! this is the chaplain who oifered his life, ^ 
And, dying for country, won peace in the strife I 

The lips of this martyr, now silent and cold, 
Were wont, with their eloquence glowing, 

The soldiers to kindle, with loyal hearts bold 
And firm, to the battle-field going : 

Where, willing to practise what others he taught, 

In van of the peril he fearlessly fought. 

Hark ! what martial music is heard in the streets. 
Of mingled gloom, glory, and gladness? 

The throb of the muffled drum mournfully beata ! 
The trumpet speaks triumph and sadness, — 

A strain swelling proudly in praise of the brave. 

But sinking to grief as it leads to the grave ! 



336 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

The train of the mourners thus slowly proceeds, 

By soldiers in sorrow escorted, 
With draped carriage drawn by four black-plumed steeds, 

Its pall with the banner consorted : 
And hushed is the crowd where it moves in the street, 
Their hearts with the muffled drum seeming to beat ! 

And now to Mount Auburn they bear the dead brave. 

The soldiers his coffin surrounding, 
Who lower their heads as he sinks in the grave, — 

And then, with the volleys resounding, 
Is sorrow of martial hearts fitly expressed, 
And earth folds the hero to sleep in her breast ! 



REV. ARTHUR B. FULLER. 

Servant of God ! thy race is run, 

Life's toils and trials o'er ; 
A crown of glory thou hast won 

By Rappahannock's shore. 

Thou wast not kissed by fragrant breeze, 
Where Summer reigns the year. 

Nor stretched on " flowery beds of ease," 
When Azrael grim drew near. 

'Neath smoke-wreathed sky, in battle-storm, 

While heroes led the van, 
With musket clenched and heart all warm. 

He found thee, noble man ! 

Anon a winged death-shot came. 

Unerring, to thy breast ; 
It quenched at once the vital flame. 

And broufjht eternal rest. 



TRIBUTES IN VERSE. ^87 

It let thy spirit upward soar, 

To join tlie mart>Ted throng 
Who chant, as angels did of yore, 

Sublime, joy-giving song. 

Now let the martial paean swell, 

Loud, sweet, and clear in air ! 
Toll not a solemn, dirge-like knell, — 

Thy bliss we hope to share ; 

To tread at last the heavenly strand. 

When our course, too, is run ; 

To stand for aye at Christ's right hand. 

And hear him say, " Well done ! " 

Wilder. 



REV. ARTHUR B. FULLER. 

» Something for my country ! " was thy battle-cry, 

Man's great glory ; with Curtius, as with thee. 
Nor for "country" only wouldst thou gladly die. 

Man's cause was thine, by ready sympathy. 
That " something " was thy life, O generous soul ! 

Gav'st all ! and now to keep thee from the stain 
Of blood, angelic music's muffled roll 

Calls Angel Death to count thee with the slain, 
To whisper°his brief measure in thine ear. 
And snatch to heaven their tried and proved compeer. 

Christian Eegnter. 



REV. ARTHUR B. FULLER. 

BY CinSLON. 

He died, — but to a noble cause 
His precious life was given ! 

He died, — but he has loR behind 
A shining path to Heaven ! 
15 



338 ^ CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

Although the tidings of his death 
Came like a stunning blow, 

So nobly did he fall, we feel 
'T is blessed he should go. 

O, none can gain a brighter name, 

Or win a deeper love. 
Than he who sweetly sings to-day 

The songs of heaven above. 
We cannot find it in our hearts 

To raise a note of woe ; 
So nobly did he fall, we feel 

'T is blessed thus to go ! 

Norton, Mass., Dec. 31, 1862. 



REV. ARTHUR B. FULLER. 



BY MABELLE. 



No dearer the gift, O my Country ! is thine 
Than the one which in tears we lay on thy shrine ; 
And pray that his Hfe, with its teachings so pure, 
May give us the strength which we need to endure. 
Since our Father in mercy has set his soul free. 
When no more he could do, O my Country ! for thee. 

Write his name with living heroes. 
Though the noble soul has fled ; 

Write it still in golden letters, 
Arthur Fuller is not dead. 

To this work of Christ, his Master, 

O how faithful he has been 1 
As in all his deeds of mercy. 

To his sufiering fellow-men. 



TRIBUTES IN VERSE. 

He has watched beside their pillow 
With a father's tender care ; 

And no peril, death, nor danger 
Was too hard for him to share. 

Cold, white lips have left their blessing 
For the faithful, kindly hand, 

Guiding them beside still waters, 
Leading to the Better Land. 



NOW AND THEN. 

How narrow the terminal bound 
Dividing the now and the then ; 

Though scenes it encloses around 
We never may visit again ! 

It shows, like the cavern of yore, 

The footsteps returning no more ! ♦ 

These ramparts the moments upraise 

Exclude us forever, alas ! 
Though soaring love vainly essays 

His wings, o'er the summit to pass. 
Nor higher can memory climb 
Than serves to look over the time ! 

Ah ! can it be, brother, that thou, 
Who shared every burden I bore, 

Whose life-lamp shone brightly but now, 
Hast passed to eternity's shore, 

Where mortal ne'er mixed with the choir, 

Save Orpheus, once, with his lyre ? 

• " Nulla vestigia retroi-sum." 



339 



340 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

Alas ! that I never shall know 

That hand's cordial pressure again, 

The living lips' musical flow, 

And features all lighted up, then ! 

That cadence I still seem to hear ! 

The pleasant laugh rings in my ear ! 

His body, devoted to Mars, 

Was all that rebellion could kill : 

His life broke in glorious stars. 
That burn in the firmament still ! 

In Jesus he slept, in the strife. 

Where death fitly ended his life ! 



REV. A. B. FULLER. 



BY MRS. J. H. HANAFOKD. 



Borne o'er death's rolling wave on angel pinions, 

Our brother rests 
Where blessed Peace rules all the fair dominions, 

And War's rude crests, 
And martial notes, and hosts arrayed for battle. 

Are known no more. 
And never swords shall clash, nor death-balls rattle, 

Upon that shore. 

A hero, In the strife for Freedom dying. 

Immortal bays 
Shall deck the brow in death's embrace now lying, 

And tuneful lays 
From hearts sincere his virtues be declaring 

Who gave his all, — 
Home, health, and life, — obedient on hearing 

His country's call. 



TRIBUTES IN VERSE. 341 

Yet sad our hearts, who mourn the friend so cherished, 

The noble soul. 
Thank God ! who lives, while but our hopes have perished, 

And at the goal 
Of our short race will bid us welcome gladly, 

And each true heart 
Forget the pangs which here it feels so sadly. 

While friends depart. 



O Brother ! 'neath the stadow we shall wander, 

And think of thee ; 
Upon thy many virtues sweetly ponder. 

And pray to be 
Where thou art resting on the shores immortal, — 

With those so dear 
Who earlier entered heaven's gleaming portal, 

And left thee here. 



Thou faithful servant of the High and Holy ! 

Heaven shall be 
Still nearer to the souls that, bending lowly, 

Now mourn for thee. 
And with the Everlasting Arm beneath them. 

Float with the tide 
Which bears them on where thou erelong shalt greet them, 

The other side. 



Hero and Saint ! enrolled upon the pages 

Of History, 
Telling of deeds sublime to future ages, 

Thy name shall be. 
And, better still, the Lamb's resplendent volume 

Thy name shall bear, 
Heading, perchance, a long and brilliant column 

Of heroes there. 



342 CHAPLAIN FULLER. 

Farewell for Time ! no more we here shall greet thee, 

But, far on high, 
Among the angels, we shall surely meet thee, 

No more to die, 
And from our lips the chalice, now so bitter. 

Our God will take. 
And bid us drink from heaven's fountain sweeter, 

When we awake. 



THE END. 



7Q8 



Cembridge : Stereotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co. 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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